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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432916">A Romance of a Lifetime</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse'>Tigresse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JohnLock AU [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Behavior Transformation, Drama &amp; Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Greg Lestrade is cool, John Watson is Perfect, John Watson is also a simpleton, M/M, Most in this fic are OOC, Phil Anderson is annoying, Shy Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:07:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a gifted and famous Lego Artist. He seems to have everything in life, including the gorgeous Sherlock Holmes. The only problem - Sherlock doesn't know about it. A story of John 'doing anything possible' to get the love of his life!</p><p>This work is now complete</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JohnLock AU [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/823422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Not-Stalker Admirer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Loosely based on a famous book and movie from the sixties "School of Scoundrels"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a normal day in London, busy and buzzing with activities right from the moment dawn had broken over its eastern horizon. Or did it even go to sleep the night before? Perhaps not, because London never sleeps, like most capital cities of the modern world. The city stands like a sentinel, watching like a hawk as its weary residents work tirelessly to ensure they can maintain that space they own in one of the world’s greatest hub of business, commerce, entertainment and life - A shoebox size flat.</p><p> </p><p>That was precisely why John Hamish Watson woke up that morning feeling rather ecstatic. He no longer lived in a shoebox flat.</p><p> </p><p>He stared around the bedroom, which was sparsely furnished and had nothing else besides the huge and comfy new king-size bed, the spacious walk-in closet, a chest of drawers and a dressing table. It needed a couch by the window, a couple of night stands, a nice elegant lamp shade on one of them and perhaps a bench sofa at the foot of the bed, maybe even a soft rug on each side of the bed. They’d all happen slowly but surely, for John might have been lacking in time but certainly not in funds. He was an accomplished Lego artist and an art designer, one of those niche skills that not many possessed and even fewer people explored. Working as a partner in Magnussen, Stamford &amp; Watson he had made a million pounds last year and close to eight hundred thousand the previous year. That’s why the spacious, second-floor flat in a Cooper Road Townhouse, a three bedroom three bath abode in reasonably fashionable and expensive neighborhood.</p><p> </p><p>Those who really know John would have argued he didn’t lack time either but John was a dreamer. He was also in love. Which was the precise reason why he spent the better part of his off-work hours immersed in the thoughts of the man he was besotted by.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit, I am late, <em>I am late again</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He jumped out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. In twenty minutes he had finished his morning routine and was dressed in a sharp formal suit, shiny shoes and wincing and yelping as he drank his steaming hot tea and took big bites a half-burned toast as fast as he could.</p><p> </p><p>He somehow made it to the nearest tube station and heaved a sigh of relief when he stood in the queue, a smile on his lips when he saw the object of his desire standing a little ahead of him in the same queue.</p><p> </p><p>The other man was six feet tall to John’s five feet seven but John didn’t mind that. He had always liked taller people and somehow this young man’s lean, willowy build was very sexy and attractive. He had blue green eyes that shone with intelligence and a face that was unconventional yet gorgeous. Aquiline features, bow shaped lips, perfectly sculpted cheekbones and that sharp jawline, in John’s eyes this was exactly how Adonis must have looked when he stared at his own reflection in water.</p><p> </p><p>Then came the 8:40 train. The same one John had been taking for the past three months even though he could easily afford a cab or simply start much later. His office offered him flexi-hours and he could easily reach by ten or ten-thirty. It wouldn’t make a difference.</p><p> </p><p>Three months ago, while waiting for a cab during a torrential downpour, John had spotted Sherlock for the first time. It had not been the perfect romantic setting, since it was dull and grey, wet and cold and there were puddles and slush around them instead of the proverbial roses, birds chirping, nature at her beautiful best and warm golden sunshine. Still, to John it was the most romantic moment of his thirty two year old life on this planet, when he had first seen Sherlock. Actually he had seen the man’s reflection in the glass window of the shop whose steps he was standing on. A tall, slim dark haired man with sparkling eyes and a shy, withdrawn demeanor. He was different, so different from all the other young men around him. Something made him stand out and that was what intrigued John the most.</p><p> </p><p>The very next moment he had run into that window and hit the glass surface nose first.</p><p> </p><p>Laughter had broken out around him, laughter that could have been louder had it not been raining and people not scuttling around for shelter or to hail cabs. Red nosed from the blow and red-faced with embarrassment, John had turned around only to note that the young man was gone. The next moment he had spotted him in a cab and chased after it, ignoring the downpour and traffic. He had eventually managed to get into another cab and follow him all the way home, in South Kensington, before turning around and going back to the neighborhood he used to reside in those days.</p><p> </p><p>For the next three days he had been in bed, sick with a cold and flu. Anyone would have considered him crazy but John felt it was the most natural thing to do.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t care a bit that he had fallen ill. He would have done that several times over if that kept him close to Sherlock.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Monday to Friday, every single day. 8:40 in the morning and then…. Whatever train I take in the evening. He’s always there!”</p><p> </p><p>William Sherlock Scott Holmes grinned at his friend, Victor Trevor, as they sat in the cafeteria of the posh private business school, London School of Business &amp; Finance, where they both taught as professors. Sherlock taught business economics and marketing operations in the postgraduate classes, Victor taught finance to both post grad and management students. They had known each other for several years, during their days as Cambridge students and now as colleagues and professors at LSBF.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you know he is stalking you?” Victor asked, “When did you first suspect this?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock grinned, “Well, I have very good powers of observation and I am a great people-watcher, right? So, when I am on the train or walking down the road I am extremely aware of my surroundings, be it traffic or people. I observe them quietly and keenly and it didn’t take me too long to spot this man. Always on the same train, always there whenever I am going home, he walks all the way until I enter the street my house is on. He neither lives on that side of town nor does he work within a couple of blocks of where we work. So why is he on that train or on that street, huh? You should see him on the train, he keeps gaping at me when he thinks I am not looking and when I do, he startles and stares away for the entire time. He seems petrified that I might actually talk to him, start communicating.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor waggled his brows, “Then why didn’t you talk to him? Introduce yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock hurriedly shook his head, “No, no, why should I?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? Don’t you want to talk to him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I want to, but…..”</p><p> </p><p>“But what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. I am not the most socially forward or easygoing person Vic, you know me very well by now.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor sighed and smiled broadly, “Of course I do. That doesn’t stop people from coveting you though! Back at the Uni, both guys and gals used to queue up in the hallway outside or under your hostel room window. I still remember Minnie, when she heard you weren’t into women! Even now, here at LSBF, I can name at least a dozen who’d like to ask you out. But from what I see on your face and everything you’ve told me so far, it seems you like this man too. Then speak to him man! At least break the ice. Maybe he’s too shy or scared to do that.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock snorted, “You and your ‘The whole world wants to date you Sherlock’ stories. I know of no such thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do. You just ignore it and pretend those admirers don’t exist.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not really keen to get into a relationship. Actually, I like it the way things are right now. I mean, he must be enjoying the thrill of the chase and I am quite enjoying the attention from him, even if he seems awkward and downright funny at times. Last month the doors closed on his face as he followed me out, too busy gawping at me to notice the doors were about to shut. Only the other day he tripped and almost fell on an elderly lady because he was focusing so much on me and didn’t realize he was standing on someone else’s foot!”</p><p> </p><p>Both men began to chuckle. Then Victor said, “How did you find out his name and what he does? You haven’t spoken to him at all, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Again it’s my….” Sherlock tapped his temple with his index finger and took out a book from his shoulder bag. He placed it on the table for his friend to look at and quipped, “It’s a popular and well-written book on Lego art and guess what I found on the last page? Comments from the writer and illustrator, along with his credentials. John Hamish Watson. He’s created some really spectacular things in his studio, including a life size likeness of one football megastar and an Academy winning actor. He’s also won three awards in this category, one in the UK, one in the continent and one more online one I think. He part owns a firm that’s into modern art and design. I saw this book in his hand and went looking for it in a store one weekend, found all that I needed to know on the last page. Simple as that!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm,” Victor looked at the photo. <em>Not bad at all</em>, he thought, <em>especially since he seemed to be doing pretty well financially</em>. The man was the next door guy, alluring in his own way even though he didn’t seem spectacular. But there was something in those brown eyes, the blond hair and impish smile which could easily make heads turn towards him. “You two would make a good pair,” he concluded, “If this is really the guy who’s been following you I say you’ve done well Sherlock!”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock looked proud.</p><p> </p><p>“So when?”</p><p> </p><p>“When? I didn’t get you.”</p><p> </p><p>“When do you plan to talk to him? I swear if my girlfriend sees this pic she’ll call you two a cute pair, sort of well-matched!”</p><p> </p><p>“I know that! Cassie would surely approve. As for talking to him…. Why should I? I am not following him around.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you’ll just let him stalk you and say nothing? Nothing at all? If you don’t wanna talk to him then let’s complain about him. Stalker behavior isn’t really healthy you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“No no no,” Sherlock objected immediately, “I never said he’s a stalker. He just takes the same train and the same roads and alleys that I do. That’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor suppressed a grin and turned back to his lunch, thereby ending the conversation for now. But he was very sure Sherlock would speak about this man soon. For the last three weeks he had been mentioning him off and on but nowadays it seemed things were getting hotter. Sparks would fly between them soon and they’d be forced to communicate. Perhaps if I can expedite it in some way…..</p><p> </p><p>“So your John….. Which company does he work for…. Part own? What’s the name of the firm?” He asked enthusiastically.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The next day John got the rarest of rare chances. The seat next to Sherlock was empty and while he was polite enough not to sit down at once and ask the lady next to him to do so instead, she answered that she was getting off the train at the next stop. ‘You take the seat, please’ she smiled sweetly and excused herself, moving towards the door. John looked at the brown head, those glossy curls fluttering in the draft that came through the vents above, those beautiful artistic hands and long fingers, the smooth and unlined skin – his stomach fluttered, a thousand butterflies flapping their wings inside. Dare he take this step? Would Sherlock appreciate it?</p><p> </p><p>He was about to take a seat just as the train pulled into a platform. Suddenly a kid rushed in and sat down, giving John a triumphant glance. John was sure he heard Sherlock snicker.</p><p> </p><p>The silly and odd debacle made him all the more determined to speak to Sherlock that day. So he followed the man even more closely while Sherlock walked home. But again he was out of luck as he stepped into the street where the young man’s house was. Just as they both turned the corner, they saw a car parked right on the kerb of the sidewalk only a few feet away. It was a bottle green Ford Escape and standing next to it was a man even taller than Sherlock, with a slightly more fuller frame, receding hairline and grey eyes. “Hello brother mine,” he greeted Sherlock and Sherlock immediately returned the greeting with ‘Hi Mycroft, you are a bit early’.</p><p> </p><p>John’s eyes collided with Mycroft’s and the moment he saw the older man’s brows lower, he turned on his heel and walked back the same way he had come.</p><p> </p><p>“Who is he?” Mycroft checked.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock knew but feigned ignorance, “Who?”</p><p> </p><p>“There was a man right behind you. He seemed to be with you almost but then…. When our eyes met he just turned and walked the opposite way.”</p><p> </p><p>“No idea,” Sherlock said with a shrug and pointed at the sidewalk ahead, “We still have time before we start for mummy’s house. Want to come upstairs for some tea?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, why not.”</p><p> </p><p>That was a Friday and John had no idea Sherlock was going to be away for the weekend and might even extend his stay at his parents’ place in Warwick. John waited balefully the next Monday for Sherlock and when the man didn’t turn up even as the watch said 10 am, he forlornly went back and took a cab to the office.</p><p> </p><p>And so it might have continued for several more months, perhaps forever, but one fine day John was startled to see Sherlock in his office. He was, despite being a partner, not the most revered man in that space nor the most authoritative. He still looked up to his other partners, both of whom were much older than him and also far more flamboyant. They had a common secretary, Marlene, who never had time for John’s work. The receptionist, Antonella, never greeted him when he walked in. One of the junior artists, Rick, assigned to him as his assistant openly defied him, resulting in John doing much of the basic work on his own. The only person who was very respectful and kind to him was a lady named Molly Hooper, who was in their advertising and business liaisons team. She was the one who whispered to him one afternoon, “Eye candy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does that mean?” John asked. He was in his cabin, working on some designs.</p><p> </p><p>“A young man just walked in. Most of the girls and Carlos have been drooling over him. He’s in the reception, waiting to meet Mr. Magnussen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, now that you’ve made me curious, let me take a look.”</p><p> </p><p>He got out of the cabin and walked down the aisle, peering past the bullpen. Through the glass wall separating the main office area from the reception, a part of the waiting lounge was visible. The moment he saw who it was, he got a jolt instead of feeling ecstatic about seeing the man again.</p><p> </p><p>What on earth was Sherlock doing here? If Molly was right he was waiting for Charles Magnussen! Oh shit, he was going to actually complain about him? Oh shit! So Sherlock knew about him, he had spotted him stalking him in the mornings and evenings and also figured out where he worked. He didn’t want Charles or Mike to hear anything adverse about him. No way.</p><p> </p><p>Losing it completely, he hotfooted to the reception area and, while pretending to pick up a few magazines from a magazine and newspaper stand right next to where Sherlock sat, he whispered to the young man in a pleading, begging tone. “Please, please don’t complain about me. I am not a crook or a stalker really. I never meant any harm to you and never will. I was just…. Listen, I am sorry, please don’t do this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Holmes,” Antonella said, “You can go inside now.”</p><p> </p><p>To his horror, Sherlock got up and walked straight towards Magnussen’s office.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A shaky beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Oh, sorry,” Sherlock said apologetically, “John please meet Phillip Andersen. Phil heads our sales team at the college......"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John sat stiffly in his cabin, holding the edge of his desk, his eyes on the door that he had left slightly ajar. He waited for that inevitable moment. He knew someone was going to show up any moment.</p><p> </p><p>And they did! About ten minutes after Sherlock had ignored John’s plea and entered Charles Magnussen’s cabin, Marlene walked into his cabin.</p><p> </p><p>While she always knocked politely on Magnussen’s door and waited for his permission to enter and at least made a customary knock on Mike’s door before entering quietly, with John she was a lot more casual and nonchalant. Her entry made a great clattering sound. She had opened the door way too hard, as she often did whenever she came to his cabin. It had hit the wall behind, making the hinges and the good luck charm hanging on the wood rattle. “Jesus Marlene, I have asked you several times about knocking before you enter my cabin,” John objected, a bit offended at the start he got when his nerves were already jarred, “If you can’t do that, at least try and keep it down. You are entering an open door, you don’t have to act like you gotta break through it.”</p><p> </p><p>She made no attempt to apologize. “Boss calling.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is not my boss…..”</p><p> </p><p>John stopped. She had already walked out again. “He is your boss, not mine,” he growled, wishing he could do that on her face. She was being disrespectful. But for now he let it go, since he had bigger shit to handle. Magnussen was calling him and that could mean only one thing, he was going to reprimand him right under Sherlock’s nose.</p><p> </p><p>He saw the door was open and heard the sounds of laughter and banter. Okay, at least the whole atmosphere was not charged with animosity. Maybe it would be a little reprimand and nothing more. John smiled uneasily, scratched the back of his head and entered Magnussen’s cabin. Shuffling his feet and eyes on the floor, he walked up to the older man’s desk and cleared his throat. “Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>“John,” Charles called out cheerfully, “Please help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hell…. Help? You want my help?” John stammered.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, who else will help when we have a walk-in customer requesting for a special Lego gift for an eminent citizen? You are not only the best Lego artist in Europe but also the art director for our business. You can have as many assistants as you wish for in order to complete this assignment. The timelines are not aggressive so you can always start a month later, after you’ve finished your current assignments. What say?”</p><p> </p><p>John was staring in astonishment at Sherlock who was grinning. He noticed Sherlock’s handsomeness every day but that was the moment when he saw how truly gorgeous his man was. His eyes were shiny jewels glimmering back at him, his smile was cute, boyish, endearing! The roseate blush on his fair skin was the icing on the cake. And yet Sherlock had all the looks and trappings of a man, from the strong build to the faint stubble, he was not effeminate at all.</p><p> </p><p>“For sure I shall help,” he said, breaking out into a fit of chuckles as well.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>From that moment John thought his life had taken a definite turn for the better. Speak of the unexpected! It turned out that Sherlock’s colleague, another young professor by the name Victor, had purposefully put the idea in the minds of the Board that their founder should be gifted something extra special for his seventieth birthday and since he was a Lego lover, a life size statue of himself in Lego would be the best. The birthday was two months away, so they better get on with it. He had also convinced them to put Sherlock on the job and make him place the order in person with Magnussen, Stamford &amp; Watson Private Limited.  </p><p> </p><p>Thanks to that, the ice had finally broken.</p><p> </p><p>But both the men were fairly reticent and neither were very experienced in love or courtship. Even though they started to greet each other on that train, often sat next to each other, occasionally smiled shyly when their eyes met, they didn’t really start dating. Sherlock waited for John to ask him out while John wondered if Sherlock would even appreciate that. They exchanged numbers but never called each other. On one occasion John sent a joke on WhatsApp, Sherlock sent back a smiley. That was all.</p><p> </p><p>“I…. I wanted to ask….” John said one evening as they were on a train ride back home.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” Sherlock kept his eyes on the open page of the book lying on his knees. He crossed his knees self-consciously and tried to suck his stomach in. Not that he had even a tiny bit of belly flab. But with John around, he wanted to look perfect.</p><p> </p><p>John looked for a moment at Sherlock’s lips. Heat spread in his groin and he looked away once more. His voice shook a bit and he hurriedly said, “No, nothing. No, actually something.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you…. I mean, who do you…. Do you-you live alone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Now I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock waited for John to say something more or ask him more questions but John never did and he didn’t add anything to his answer either.</p><p> </p><p>And so things went on, the same way as before. Sherlock confessed some of this to his former landlady and current housekeeper, a lady by the name Mrs. Hudson, who visited his home once a day for all five working days of the week. While they were not related, they were exceptionally close and understood each other. Sherlock, whilst scolding Mrs. Hudson for talking too much and being too nosey, also used her as a sounding board for all decisions he took and ranted with her about situations and people when needed.</p><p> </p><p>So when he hinted at the existence of a John Watson in his life, her reaction was exactly as she had hoped for.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she made a new delicacy for him, “You have started dating??? That’s great news. Listen, I am making twelve bao buns. Pork and vegetable filling in all, along with a mildly spicy dip, a raw papaya and mango salad and a clear vegetable soup on the side. Have this for dinner. It’s Friday, right? You can have the rest for lunch tomorrow. For your breakfast I have prepared pancakes. All you need to do is heat it and use the applesauce on them, okay?” She paused, caught her breath and said, “Okay, about this young man you’re dating now… so then what happened with him? Trouble in Paradise? What’s his name? What does he look like? You got a pic?”</p><p> </p><p>“Catch your breath,” Sherlock laughed.</p><p> </p><p>She colored, “I-I am sorry, I just went off like a bullet train huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“As usual.”</p><p> </p><p>“So then I’ll focus, I am with you now. This young man…..”</p><p><br/>
“His name is John Watson. He is an artist…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Painter? Sculptor? Musician?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hudders,” Sherlock was appalled, “Will you please let me finish my sentence and stop second guessing? Mycroft is annoying enough when he does that and I don’t need you to act like him in his absence.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oops, I’ll shut up now,” she said apologetically, “Just that… I am very excited. This is the first time you have mentioned someone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that much has progressed,” Sherlock snorted to himself, “It seems we are both tongue tied in each other’s presence. I swear I always make up my mind that I shall tell him so many things when we meet next, ask him so many questions I have. Yet, the moment he and I step on that train or walk together to work or home, I hardly talk. I am silent 50% of the time and he’s silent the other 50%.”</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t sound very convenient or a good start to a relationship,” she said with a fond smile, “You do want to be with him, right? You do want that relationship with him, am I correct in assuming that?”</p><p><br/>
“Yes you are,” Sherlock sighed, “I was hoping you’d let me know if I can do something to loosen things up a bit, from my side. I don’t want him to think I am a tight-arse, stiff, socially incompetent fool.”</p><p> </p><p>“But Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson countered, “From what I just heard, that makes the two of you! If he thinks you’re socially awkward and incapable of being easygoing, interesting company, then he doesn’t score too high on that scale either. As you just said, you’re quiet half the time and the other half of the time he practices silence. It seems both of you have decided that the other one should take the first step. Result – a complete deadlock and a game of cat and mouse. Not good at all if you ask me.” She gave Sherlock a mug of hot cocoa and put a liberal dose of whipped cream on top, “Listen, one must not be afraid to seek what he wants and once he finds it, he should be even less scared to go all out to get it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry your logic just bounced over my head, missing me by a few feet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Seek, afraid, want, all out, scared…. Whatever that sentence meant.”</p><p> </p><p>She laughed, “I mean – If you want him go out and get him. Speak, babble, argue, demonstrate, ask, joke, tease, whatever it takes.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock’s face fell. “I….. um, it’s not like I don’t want to but then….. ehm, this doesn’t come to me naturally.”</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t come to him naturally either,” she sighed, “Alright. Give it time. Maybe things will sort themselves out. But do drop a few subtle hints.”</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of hints? What should I say?”</p><p> </p><p>“Say, there’s this really nice play at Almeida. I always love social satires and laughter riots on stage. Then tell him the F1 race in coming up, at the Silverstone track, and how you long to visit the racing circuit. Mention this really cool café that’s opened up close to your college or…”</p><p> </p><p>“Or the nice Chinese-Thai restaurant that you always love to visit for a working lunch or an early weekday dinner. This ongoing exhibition that you’ve bene thinking about dropping into, perhaps buy a thing or two. There’s this really nice exhibition close to my college, neo-noir art, really nice stuff on display there…. Or so I have heard. It would be nice to go and see them, especially in someone’s company.”</p><p> </p><p>“There,” she said with a grin, “You got it.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>They were both on the train that day, the usual one, speeding towards Sherlock college. As always Sherlock would alight two stops before John’s, John would accompany him and walk till the college gates, then take a cab or a bus and go to his office.</p><p> </p><p>From time to time Sherlock kept glancing at John, hoping the man would make some small talk at least. He really wanted to go to the London Habitat Center and visit that exhibition, he wanted to go to ‘Peking Spice’ and have a nice scrumptious lunch there, over the weekend it wouldn’t be a bad idea to watch the latest play in Almeida, Shaw’s ‘Arms and the Man’. The guy playing Bluntschli was one of Sherlock’s favorite actors. The first play he had seen as a grownup had this actor in the helming double role of Dr. Jekyll and the ghoulish Hyde. The same man was now a character actor on screen and a TV star, essaying lead roles in several series and soaps.</p><p> </p><p>Unbeknownst to him, John had two tickets to a movie that had won five Oscars the same year and was the latest craze in town. It had taken him three attempts to get the tickets, that too the premium seats. He too had every mind of asking Sherlock out for a meal, to a restaurant that was equidistant between their workplaces. Yet, every single time he made up his mind and tried to open his mouth, something would hold him back. He cursed himself loudly in his head, berated himself for not having any guts, no spine etc, yet he couldn’t gather enough courage to say the words out aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“Jawn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you watched the play at the Almeida? The one with Andrew Scott in it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I watched it when it first debuted, about six weeks ago.”</p><p><br/>
“Oh! I haven’t seen it yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock sighed. No way was he going to say ‘Shall we go then? You can watch it a second time!’ Nah, he was just not that forward, neither did he want to sound overtly eager.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Jawn?”</p><p> </p><p>“There is a nice Asian restaurant that’s opened up a couple of blocks from my office. I once saw you reading an article on Pan-Asian food, especially the barbeque. They have live Barbeque, Korean, over there. Very nice place, or so I have heard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, good.”</p><p> </p><p>Once again a pall of silence descended over them and they kept stealing glances at each other and fidgeting with their hands and objects they held in them (cell phones, house keys, laptop bags). The train sped on and their destination arrived, both men trooped off on the platform as usual, without exchanging a further word. Sherlock was disappointed but he couldn’t bring himself to actually ‘ask’ John out, something he so badly wanted to do. After all they were both men and either of them could do the ‘asking’. It wasn’t the typical case of boy courting girl, where mostly the onus lay on the boy to ask, pursue and plan things in the evening. It was strange, Sherlock thought as he and John walked on side by side, how women let men lead the way initially and then took over everything later, including the ‘leading’ job.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherrrrlock!!!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Sherlock!!!”</p><p> </p><p>John and Sherlock stared at each other, confounded. Then Sherlock said a startled ‘Oh’ and looked over his shoulder. The origin of that cry was from somewhere behind and he saw a head and an arm bobbing over several other heads and faces. Sherlock stopped, stepped away from the escalators and peered closer, then smiled with recognition. John, on the other hand, got pushed on to the escalator by the rushing crowd after him and found himself separated from Sherlock.</p><p> </p><p>He immediately changed directions and came back down using the stairs, only to find Sherlock chatting happily with another man. He stepped closer, a bit taken aback, staring into the back of the other man’s head.</p><p> </p><p>It took Sherlock almost five minutes to notice that John was <em>also there</em>. The other man hadn’t noticed John either and had his back turned towards John the entire time. “Oh, sorry,” Sherlock said apologetically, “John please meet Phillip Andersen. Phil heads our sales team at the college. Thanks to him we have so many sponsors and collaborators. His team also designs all the student packages.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip Andersen was roughly John’s age, as tall as Sherlock and had a long, gaunt face with hairs that resembled a mop at the end of the pole. Overall he looked like a broomstick in sophisticated clothing. He also wore very heavy cologne. John’s nostrils tingled from it.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh hello,” said the man, then turned back at Sherlock, “I was away for three weeks to Singapore, to kickstart our new branch there you see. Hey, how about we have lunch together today? The usual place, Russian-Scandinavian cuisine, ‘Northern Lights’.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Baby steps forward giant leap backward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John's presence and interest in Sherlock has given Andersen an additional burst of energy and purpose to pursue the gorgeous Mr. Holmes!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Nightmare come true if you ask me,” John said grumpily to the only friend he had, his former flat mate and now his neighbor, Henry Knight. They used to share an abode earlier but, thanks to the success at their jobs and the subsequent ascent in their financial position, they had bought a flat each in the same building. John’s flat was on the fourteenth floor, Henry’s flat was on the sixth.</p><p> </p><p>Henry handed him a beer and snickered, “What happened? He turned out to be a snorer?”</p><p> </p><p>John snorted and looked away, shaking his head. “Bad joke,” he grumbled, not the least bit impressed by the teasing. Henry grinned, “What? Pardon me if you assumed I was pulling your leg because I wasn’t. I was thinking that since it’s been a month from the day the two of you started talking to each other, you must have ended up in bed several times and finally spent a night together. After some real heated activity between the sheets you’d have woken up because of his snoring several times in the night. Now I realize you have probably not even managed to kiss yet. Oh John, John, John, even kids nowadays are faster. You’re dragging your feet back to the Victorian era and one of you isn’t even a Victorian lady in one of those puffy dresses.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, rub it in.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not. I am merely saying I can’t believe this. What do you guys do on dates anyways?”</p><p> </p><p>“We haven’t dated yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…. Wait, you mean to say all you do is share a train ride and walk to the college together and back to his place? He has never invited you in? You haven’t asked him out? Lunches? Movies? Weekend drinking? Shopping?”</p><p> </p><p>John shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God,” Henry did a facepalm, “I don’t believe this. You took three months to introduce yourself and now it’s been a month and not a step forward?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have been trying,” John insisted, “I wanted to take him out. I even bought tickets, made reservations at restaurants, bought wine at home, even planned on cooking for him and had all the ingredients on the shelf. But eventually I couldn’t do the real thing, ask him out. Then, yesterday morning, this weirdo pops up from nowhere. Someone named Phillip. Smartass, motormouth, full of self-importance. He hogged all the attention and even asked Sherlock out for lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Sherlock agreed?”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Henry grabbed John and made him sit at the kitchen table. He pulled a chair right next to him and sat down as well, rubbing his hands together.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you do as I say?” He asked, giving his friend a stern look. John nodded mutely but vigorously, happy to be given some directions. “Good,” he continued, “Now let’s see what we can do to exterminate this Phillip Andersen and ensure Sherlock pays attention only to you. First, make a reservation at a restaurant Sherlock seems to favor the most and ensure you are there at least ten minutes in advance. By the end of the meal please don’t forget to suggest the next date, say something like ‘We must not do a rushed lunch next time but a leisurely dinner’ and this time ask him if he wants to catch a movie before that. Also, why a train ride every morning man? Next time you must hail a cab and open the door for him. You meet him at the platform or earlier than that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just outside the train station.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fantastic. Then go the other way this time, hail a cab. Easier ride, more private, you can talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, good idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go John go!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. YES! I am going to do this.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Sherlock how about we take a cab to work today?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock smiled, “Yeah, good idea. You must be getting late every day, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not about me getting late,” John said timidly, “It’s about…..” he stopped before he could say ‘private time’. His tongue tied itself in knots as Sherlock looked at him expectantly. He ran his long fingers through his dark locks and colored slightly as John’s eyes lingered on his face. “Jawn,” he said softly when John made no attempt to finish his sentence, “You were saying something about hailing a cab. Just now you were saying something, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I was. What was it?”</p><p> </p><p>“How would I know…. I was thinking…..”</p><p><br/>“Sherrrlock!”</p><p> </p><p>John almost groaned with frustration and disappointment. What the fuck! How was this even possible? It was the same oaf Andersen and he was waving his arms wildly at Sherlock from the service lane. “Hey come on, I have my car today.” <em>Oh yes, he is in a car, God damn it! Just when I think I am going to flag down a cab he arrives in a car. </em></p><p> </p><p>“But Phil……”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock hesitated, realizing he shouldn’t walk off and leave John stranded all by himself but the other man was not so considerate. “Oh, please no if’s and but’s Sherlock, c’mon quickly or you’ll be late, we will both be late.” Phil waved both arms impatiently at him, pointedly ignoring John who stood there exasperated and wondering how things could go so wrong. He wished he had allowed Sherlock to go inside the station instead of stopping him right at the gate. They’d have reached the platform by now and no way would that worm had spotted them from the street. <em>But no, I had to keep him out here on the sidewalk, in open view, so Phillip could spot him from three hundred meters away.</em>  </p><p> </p><p>“You come along too,” Sherlock took the next best option, suggesting they both go together, “Why would you take the train ride alone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sherrrrlock!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, just a sec.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock grabbed John’s hand absentmindedly. He was not aware of the touch but John was acutely conscious of those long fingers and their magical touch to his skin. His entire arm tingled. He felt like a new lease of life had been injected through him. “We can both go with him, plenty of space in a four wheeler don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p>“N-Nah, you go along,” John smiled, burning inside with annoyance and irritation, “It’s fine, I will take a cab by myself. I don’t need to take the train ride, not if you’re not on it.” <em>No please Sherlock don’t go, tell him you’d rather take the cab ride with me. I can’t go with him, he’s not even interested in taking me along. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Alright.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock reluctantly let go and walked away and John watched his dreams crumble, for another day. <em>Nobody else’s fault but mine. </em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you buy a car too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Henry!!!”</p><p> </p><p>Henry Knight rolled his eyes. “Oh GOD! John, you’re ridiculous you know that? What the hell are you earning for? You have a countryside homestead in Cooke. You are a homeowner in London, here, right here in this decent upmarket neighborhood, you have more than a million buried in mutual funds and bonds and two hundred thousand in your Goddamned checking account. You are a partner at a flourishing, profitable firm for Christ’s sake. You can buy three cars and maintain them.”</p><p> </p><p>“So I can,” John said, “I’ll buy a nice sedan, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>The next day John was at a showroom close to where he lived, looking at the cars on display there. One side had new car models, which were only Fords and Volkswagens and Skoda’s. On the other side was a much bigger collection, of pre-owned cars. The moment John walked inside, the store owner’s eyes fell on him. He was a vulture like man named Culverton Smith and beside him was a curly haired woman named Sally, his girl Friday. Sally did all his dirty jobs for him and earned more than the store manager did. “Go on girl,” Culverton instructed, a dirty look in his eyes, “The lamb just walked in to be slaughtered. He is begging for it, go and get the country hick.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure sir?”</p><p><br/>“Of course, look at him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’re right. He is the lamb.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just see how he walks, how unsure he is, how nervous and self-conscious, even though he’d loaded he assumes no one will give him any importance at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“That means….?”</p><p><br/>“The moment someone gives him attention he will do whatever they say. And none better than a gorgeous, clever woman like you. See if you can sell him that car. Yeah, THAT one. If anyone can buy that piece of junk it’s this idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>Sally quickly walked right up to a nervous and lost John and flashed a huge smile at him. “Welcome sir, welcome to the Smith &amp; Wellington Showroom for all forms of transport, new and used cars, two and four wheels, off-roaders and electric vehicles, environment friendly hybrids, customized beauties and even some vintage models that would be great for your personal collection.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes….”</p><p><br/>John looked behind himself to assure his heart that she was speaking to him. She suppressed a snide snicker and said, “This must be your sixth or seventh vehicle, right? Perhaps the second time you’re buying one in this particular year!”</p><p> </p><p>“N-No, this is my first one…. My very first vehicle. My father had a farm…. Homestead, farmlands, he and my mother owned…. Farm machinery. I-I have only seen tractors, diggers and forklift trucks actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh yeah you are from the country and trying hard to fit in, aren’t ya? Sally’s eyes sparkled with the recognition of the ‘lamb’ and she quickly started to sharpen the knives while the stewpot was set to boil a little distance away by her greedy, conniving boss.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, I have just the thing for you,” she quickly led him to the back of the huge floor area, where behind a curtain stood that vehicle they were hard-pressed to sell. It was a custom made Pagani Monique, once no doubt a beauty and in a class of its own, but basically a total flop on the road. As the Count and Countess of Northampton found out after being fooled by an Italian sweet-talking playboy, its specifications were all wrong. The car was too heavy for the engine and the aerodynamics too complex to make it safe. For decades it had been relegated from owner to owner, finally being donated to a show. Even the show organizers refused to keep it and sold it off, for a mere twenty-five grand, to Culverton’s ex-wife. For five years Culverton had been trying to sell this 1972 model, with no success.</p><p> </p><p>“But isn’t this a bit too big for London roads, the parking problem and all that?” John asked Sally who was hard-selling it.</p><p> </p><p>At that precise moment another man, a decoy planted by the crooked Culverton, showed up and pushed John out of the way with his shoulder. “Hey, this is just what I was looking for. My girl would love it, you know. How much for this? I am ready to pay hard cash or do a bank transfer right away from my account.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, sorry,” Sally said with manipulative sweetness, “But this gentleman is buying this one for his girlfriend. He saw it first. Aren’t you sir?”</p><p> </p><p>John had always felt circumstantial pressure and succumbed to it. Other people’s expectations had always mattered more to him than his own. Sally had given him so much attention that he felt obligated to buy this, more for her sake than his own. So without even doing a proper analysis he nodded and said, “Yes, so I was.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will pay forty grand for this,” the other man said cunningly.</p><p> </p><p>“I am sure the good sir here will pay fifty.”</p><p> </p><p>John had a budget of sixty to seventy thousand and so the amount was no big deal for him. He, however, had not planned on a pre-owned vehicle and that too something so dressy and flashy. But when he saw the other man hankering for it and Sally rattled off about how good the automobile was and how many eminent people owned it, he got convinced.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sure, I shall buy this one.”</p><p> </p><p>Sally grinned and shook John’s hand, congratulating him. The other man morosely walked away, as if he had just lost his girlfriend and not a car deal. Charles Culverton watched from a distance and grinned from ear to ear. “Well done Sal, more power to you and a fat commission too. One more lamb bites the dust today.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>John was quite sure these were things he either imagined or even if they did exist, the problems were only temporary in nature. The car, which he had got on a ‘discounted rate’ of 45000 GBP, had not only started giving him problems after putting on only a mile, it had refused to start in his garage the very next morning. To make matters worse, people gave it strange looks and some even laughed. A few snapped up photos and one woman even asked him as they stopped side by side at a signal. “Are you driving this to some fancy show? You know, as we have fancy dress balls there must be something similar done for the cars too, eh?”</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully Sherlock didn’t laugh when he saw the car but he was quite stunned by the sudden appearance of a vehicle and John alighting from it. “Hey,” he said, giving the car a short glance, “Whose car is this?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s mine, if course,” John smiled, “I bought it only yesterday. Enough of trains, I say. Do you like it?” Sherlock gave the car a closer look and shrugged, “It’s okay. No, it’s nice actually.” Then came the awkward silence, which so often existed between the two social misfits, with neither man saying anything further and simply looking here and there. While Sherlock hoped John would ask him to ride with him, John was expecting the younger man to simply seize the opportunity and take a seat next to him. Just like he had done a couple of days earlier with Phillip Andersen.</p><p> </p><p>The sounds of honking made John finally ask, “Do you wanna….?”</p><p><br/>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes of bliss continued but right after that, disaster struck. John’s car stopped in the middle of the busy road, amidst rush hour traffic, holding up a long queue of cars behind him as the signals turned various colors. Sherlock and John had to get down and push the car diagonally across the road and some distance from the traffic signal and four-point crossing. An embarrassed John was just about to say sorry when Phillip from hell arrived on a motorcycle this time.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh John, whoever sold you this junk? I hope you haven’t paid the full amount yet.”</p><p> </p><p>With that he pointed at the buddy seat and said, “Sherlock, I guess John can’t take you to work today. He has to call the garage instead. But no worries, I am here. Let’s go.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Mentor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John decides to take a drastic step</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When John called Sherlock the next day to have lunch with him, pulling out all the punches he had to take things to the next stage, he was horrified when he heard Phillip in the background. Moments after Sherlock had accepted, Phillip took the phone from him and said, “Hey John, you wouldn’t mind if I come along too huh? After all the more the merrier, right?”</p><p> </p><p>No, I do mind. I wasn’t inviting you, it was supposed to be me and Sherlock. Why don’t you find someone else to be your lunch date. “Yes you can come too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh thanks man, I knew I could count on you. So we are going to Northern Lights, right? Yeah, great, see you there at one-thirty sharp then.” Once again John got a live demonstration of how men like Phillip, when given half an inch, would easily grab a mile. Before he could reply or Sherlock could get back on the line, the cunning Andersen had disconnected. There was no other way but to be there, reserve a table for three and wait for the two men. Since they worked in the same place, they’d come over together. John couldn’t really say anything to that.</p><p> </p><p>He sat there since 1:20 pm, drinking water and checking the menu and his watch alternately. The restaurant was nice, from the ambience to service to the presentation of the food. John hoped the dishes tasted as good as they smelled and looked. At nearly 1:45 pm the duo arrived, fashionably late. “I am sorry Jawn,” Sherlock began, “But Phil got a last minute call……”</p><p><br/>
John had barely opened his mouth to respond when he was cut short, yet again. “Oh it’s fine really,” Phil said as if he was the one who should decide that, “John knows and understands. Now come on, let’s order.”</p><p> </p><p>He promptly took the menu card from Sherlock’s hand and said, “The usual one eh? Chicken ala Kiev and an olive and potato salad to go with it?”</p><p> </p><p>“We had that the last two times…..”</p><p><br/>
“Yeah, I know. My favorite. We can have it every single time, right? Hey, Ivan, yes, over here please. How are you my man?”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well sir, good to see you here sir,” the blond young waiter said with a practiced smile. But he secretly rolled his eyes. While this customer was a regular one and often brought company and business with him too, he took most of the advantages out the other side by asking for discounts or demanding last minute reservations. The pompous prick always acted as if he owned this place but was notoriously miserly when it came to leaving tips.</p><p> </p><p>“Please tell Dasha in the kitchen that it’s my order and must be made to my tastes and specifications. Three portions Chicken ala Kiev, a large family size serving of olive and potato salad and of course you’ll give the complimentary borsht along with it, as a first course. Bring some bottled water, still and at room temperature along, with the order.”</p><p> </p><p>John stared at the whole scenario unfolding before him, dismayed as his date was hijacked and Phil took over completely from there. From placing the order to chatting Sherlock up, he didn’t even glance at John while the man still sat there waiting to be acknowledged. Even when Sherlock tried to involve John in the conversation, Phil tactfully cut him off and then snubbed him with icy politeness.</p><p> </p><p>While the dishes chosen by him were perfect and very flavorful, John was hurt by the fact that he had no say in ordering any of those things. He wanted something else, something sweetish. <em>Maybe dessert</em>. He was also quite shocked at the boorish manner in which Phil spoke to the waiters and waitresses. If that was what smart, clever and sophisticated people did, he didn’t want to be one of them.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock gave him a faint smile now and then and at one point even asked him if he was enjoying his meal. But Phil chose to scold the waiter at that precise moment for not refilling Sherlock’s glass with the Iced Tea they were drinking and John’s response for drowned out. At the conclusion of the meal the blond man enthusiastically tried to get a word in and suggest that they order a plate of Finnish style apple crumble but Phil jumped up and showed his watch to Sherlock. “Hey, you will be late for your classes and I have a group of clients arriving in the next ten minutes, to survey the campus. I guess we should get going right away. John, I suppose you can finish the apple crumble on your own. Mega thanks for the meal by the way, it’s not often that someone treats us to a hundred pound lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>Once they had left, John sighed and muttered, “I know.” Then he took out two fifty quid notes and told the waiter, “Keep the change, all twelve pounds.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me sir.” It was the same waiter, Ivan. He was giving John a strange look. “Yes?” John asked, wondering if he had tipped too less.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you smoke?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I suppose you won’t mind if I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, why should I?”</p><p> </p><p>“Alley behind the restaurant sir, now. You exit through the front door, take two rights and you’ll be there. I shall be waiting. Five minutes is all I ask for.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, it wouldn’t hurt, John thought as he quietly slipped out and headed straight for the narrow alley behind he establishment. As promised, Ivan was there smoking a cigarette. He smiled broadly and said, “You’re a generous tipper. You also seem like a good man.”</p><p> </p><p>“You called me here to tell me that? I appreciate the acknowledgement but I must get back to work now…..”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to help you. Or, I know someone who could help you. Trust me on this, once you meet him you will be charmed. You’ll know you’ve come to the right man. He’s changed many people’s lives and will gladly do the same for you too. At a fee of course.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After one more week of being relegated to the background and constantly being talked down and ignored by the beastly Phil, John was convinced he needed to visit the man suggested by Ivan Zhivkov, the Russian waiter at Northern Lights. At first he had been dismissive of the suggestion but he had retained the business card shared by Ivan. Now, after yet another failed date with Sherlock where Phil had showed up just before a concert and whisked Sherlock off to a movie instead, the Lego artist decided enough was enough. If he didn’t have it in him to do this on his own, then he’d seek someone’s help.</p><p> </p><p>A man named Gregory Stratham Lestrade.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be gone for a month,” he said to the only two people who cared, besides Sherlock. One was Molly Hooper in his office and the other was his neighbor and friend Henry Knight. While Molly didn’t ask why and only offered to help or fill-in for him, if needed, during his absence, Henry was a bit curious and asked a few questions. For once John didn’t share the truth with him, instead saying he was away to see an ailing aunt and would be back once she had recovered. He got the time off easily, since he had not taken a single day off in two years and had enough leave balance left.</p><p> </p><p>Then he left for Paris.</p><p> </p><p>He went to the address, which was in a quiet and cobbled street that branched off the busy and bustling Les Halles area. Only a hundred meters inside, the noise of the main roads, the shoppers and traffic had faded away into a distant din. The narrow lane, which was mainly useful for pedestrians and could be used by a single vehicle at one time, widened out into a sort of a cul-de-sac area which had three properties around it. One was high-rise apartment building. The other was a huge bungalow with a long driveway, post which its acreage started. The third and central one was an old-fashioned Parisian house, occupying five floors, with a quaint courtyard and arched doorway.</p><p> </p><p>The man in question lived in one of the apartments in that building.</p><p> </p><p>The gate was open but the moment he entered through it a sentinel sprang out from nowhere and stopped him. John stated his name and the resident he was paying a visit to. A call was made, a camera was turned on, his image was captured and sent and finally he was allowed in.</p><p> </p><p>On one side was a neat row of garages. On the other side was a concierge’s office, plus quarters for him and his family and the security personnel who manned the gate. From one of the windows John could see a middle-aged woman cooking lunch.</p><p> </p><p>He walked into the building where another sentinel showed him the elevators, which were to the right of the foyer and the subsequent longish hallway.</p><p> </p><p>The man he wanted to meet lived on the terraced top floor, one of the two large penthouses. The foyer was pure marble and teakwood, the doors on either end, leading to individual residences, were made of expensive mahogany and mother of pearl. When he announced himself by pressing the calling bell on the security panel, a CCTV camera focused on his face and moments later the door was opened by a big boned and tall woman who was the housekeeper. A hallway led to three different doors, one whose door was ajar and which was occupied. He could hear voices. The second one was open and clearly the reception room, large and richly decorated. Through a set of windows and a door on the other side one could see the open terrace and the blooming plants in ornate pots.</p><p> </p><p>The third door led to a less formal entertainment room. There was a pool table in the middle, a large wet bar in one corner which was lined with half a dozen bar stools, a ping pong table on the opposite corner, a couple of PlayStation, plus some lounge chairs and low tables. Clearly it was a boys’ room and playing pool all by himself was a handsome man in his early forties. Tanned and toned, with slight streaks of silver in his otherwise neat and closely cropped head of hair, he had the looks of a sexy silver fox. Accompanying him were two women, one was holding his drink for him while the other took notes on her iPad.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re John Hamish Watson?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the one sent by Ivan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I am the same person sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you take an appointment for this afternoon?”</p><p> </p><p>“No sir, I didn’t do that. I just took a chance and booked my flight to Paris. But that doesn’t mean you have to give me time today. Even if you want me to come back a day later with a proper appointment I am okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Gregory. Second name Lestrade. You can start with Mr. Lestrade. No need for this sirring. I am a bit squeamish about this.”</p><p> </p><p>John blinked but nodded with a polite smile, “Absolutely Mr. Lestrade.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Lestrade seemed happy, “You learn fast, respect the process of booking a prior appointment and don’t waste time in unnecessary chitchat. I like that. Every busy man in this world needs to respect the other person’s schedule. That way we are all taken care of. In this world and society we must all be givers. Then everyone gets what they want. Otherwise, with takers all around, you begin to feel drained and used and it just gets so difficult to….. did you understand what I said?”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly his charming host looked a bit disappointed, even a tad annoyed with him. Frowning darkly at John he quipped, “Of course you didn’t. How could <em>you understand</em> when <em>even I had lost the plot</em> by the end of the longish spiel I threw towards you? Tell me the truth, did you really understand much?” When John nodded again he seemed a bit appeased. “Alright, good you admitted. But let this is your first lesson. Do NOT say a yes when you are not sure what you’re saying a ‘yes’ to. That could be a stupid thing to do and potentially dangerous for you. There is no shame in asking for more information, clarifying or asking questions to get to the bottom of things, got that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Mr. Lestrade.”</p><p> </p><p>“Raina, please book his appointment right now with me. If I ask my secretary he will choose a slot in three days and this poor fella will unnecessarily spend his hard-earned money living in some obscure and filthy hotel in a dingy suburb. Have you booked yourself somewhere?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. We have suggested places and they offer a discount. One is just down the alley.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, what exactly is your problem? What do you need my help with? And, if you don’t mind sharing what you’ve known about me so far!”</p><p> </p><p>John scratched the back of his head, “I just got to read testimonies of your former students, protégés and clients, all of whom claim you have a magical formula to solve their problems. Ivan was insistent that I visit you. As for what my problem is…. I wish I knew. I am unable to define it at the moment. I only know that I love this man and I want him in my life. But it seems someone else is intervening, even taking him away from me and…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t ramble, be articulate.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want that man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? Why should you get him? What gives you some sort of a Divine right over him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I love him truly. I can die or kill for him. Unfortunately it seems all I can really do is such extreme things but not everyday things like asking him out, asking him about his likes and preferences or even purchasing a nice gift for him that’ll bring a smile on to his face.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sweet,” Lestrade seemed nonplussed by the comments, “Nice romantic ideas and the usual reasons for believing you deserve your prize. So do they all. But you come across as a normal man, devoid of pretenses and lies. So I believe you. What’s his name?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock,” John answered with a near reverence in his tone. Almost immediately a strange alteration came over Greg Lestrade’s features. From mild indifference it became utter curiosity and then a strange affection settled over it. He smiled fondly at John and said, “That’s an unusual name, isn’t it?” John nodded, “Yes it is. But I would call it unique rather than unusual. Just as he is a unique man himself, so different from the rest, someone who is comfortable being different instead of trying to be part of the flock. He’s honest, genuine, handsome. He’s amazing and I think I understand him very well, which is precisely why I feel he and I should be together. I can make him happy, believe me, I can……”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, sure I do believe you.”</p><p> </p><p>Lestrade turned towards his assistant. “He will stay in my guest room, not the hotel. Charge him only half the fees I normally take.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have got the money with me,” John held out a thick wad of notes, “Ivan told me it’s twenty-five grand and I have twenty-five grand here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Next lesson. You don’t flash a wad of cash before someone, especially if they’re your teacher, boss, client or someone higher up the pecking order. You speak of payments with their staff.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well Mr. Lestrade.”</p><p> </p><p>“You will be here for a month. All your expenses are covered by this fee. I will help you with your current issue, but for that we must build your foundation as a confident, capable and charismatic human being. If we can’t manage in a month we shall try two more weeks after that. But not more than six weeks. In that case, you’ll go home without results and without a refund. Agreed?”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded enthusiastically, “Yes I agree.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Greg Lestrade lit a pipe and asked, “Do you smoke?” When John shook his head he asked, “What if I say being cool is related to holding a pipe?”</p><p> </p><p>John said gently, “With all due respect, Mr. Lestrade, a man’s inner persona should be the answer to his woes. No cigarette or pipe can make up for it or fill-in the missing blanks.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lestrade is quite unlike his usual character/personality as shown in Sherlock stories. Hope you enjoy this avatar of his and how John 'transforms' in his tutelage.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock misses John terribly. John misses him too but he's on a mission now</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock walked out of his house with a big smile on his face. He was reluctant to admit this even to himself but the mere thought of walking alongside John and traveling on the train with him, even if they didn’t speak much all through, was exhilarating. He looked forward to these moments and woke up every morning with a pleasant, warm feeling in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Was John the ‘One’ for him? He blushed slightly as he hit the sidewalk and took long strides ahead. Maybe, only time would tell. Or maybe it had already told him so. Why else did he feel so attached to a man who he had known for only four months and first spoken to just about a month ago? </p><p> </p><p>He clutched his laptop bag and cell phone, a spring in his step as the sun shone on his face and the wind sifted through his hairs. But as he walked closer and closer to the train station, his smile faded and his steps slowed down. All those familiar spots and stops where John usually waited for him just passed by. No signs of John anywhere. <em>Maybe he’s waiting on the platform for me</em>, Sherlock thought as he quickly made his way there. Nope, no luck there either. Amidst a sea of different faces he searched in vain for the one face he wanted to see, John’s. He saw a few blond mops here and there and eagerly craned his neck to look at those people, none of them turned out to be John.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock felt a strange sense of despondency and sadness as the journey progressed. Without realizing it, he had become addicted to the idea of John being around. Even when they weren’t speaking to one another, he was happy just to know that the blond man was somewhere close by and watching him. Now he felt so….. <em>alone</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Once he alighted from the train he realized he had stepped off on the wrong station. It was the one John should have taken, not his stop.</p><p> </p><p>The irony of this mistake struck him and he realized that for the first time it was he who was taking those steps to know John better, a move he should have made weeks ago.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Did my indifference disappoint him? I am quiet and circumspect about things, not indifferent. I like him, surely he knew that, didn’t he? Or maybe he didn’t. I was not indifferent. I was just shy. I have never been very forward with such things. But how would he know that? Maybe I should have asked him more about himself, shown more interest in his life, work and ideas. Damn, I don’t even have his phone number. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock swallowed and trudged over to the other platform, to take a train back to his own stop. There was no point in hanging around here. Perhaps John was not well or had to go visit a client or something. Tomorrow he would be back and <em>everything would be normal. </em></p><p> </p><p>Again it struck him how much he had changed in the past few months. He had become so used to John that not having him around in the mornings felt ‘not-normal’.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Guess why I took you on without any prior notice or appointment, gave you a discounted rate and even made you a house guest instead of directing you to our preferred hotel or service apartment?” Greg asked John as they sat on the terrace the next morning, sipping some flavorful Darjeeling leaf tea.</p><p> </p><p>“I have no idea to be honest,” John confessed, giving him a sheepish smile and scratching behind his right ear, “Though I am immensely grateful you made those exceptions.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, I would be immensely grateful if you stopped that silly little habit of yours,” Greg pointed with his eyes, “Stop scratching your head and touching your ear and cheek. This screams ‘Self-conscious’ and ‘nervous’ and no one likes such people.” John immediately put his hand back on the table in front of them and nodded in concurrence. “Well, allow me to give you some reasons why I included you in my program of ‘Personality Rebuilding’. First, you really seem serious about changing your life and getting this man, else you would have showed some hesitation in the duration of your stay or even the steep fees I charge. I like people with conviction and who don’t haggle over timelines and prices. Second, you don’t want to be a poser or a pretender in order to get this guy. You want to be yourself. That’s what I always advise, be yourself. But a better version of yourself if need be.”</p><p> </p><p>John grinned from ear to ear.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop grinning,” Greg instructed and the other man immediately shut his mouth, “First of all, this is going to be quite a battle for you. You will have to change yourself almost entirely as a person. Not who you are inside but how you come across to people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay Mr. Lestrade.”</p><p> </p><p>“I heard your story last night over dinner and made some notes. Here is my analysis. You grew up in a very cloistered environment, protected and dominated by your parents and elder sister. She even used to finish your sentences for you. I’m surprised you didn’t develop a stammer.”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded. There was nothing for him to say except agree. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know all this, just that nobody had spoken aloud about it.</p><p> </p><p>“Improper conditioning, decision-making power non-existent, general anxiety about other people’s opinions, almost painfully self-conscious and not at all self-aware. No confidence, very little display of energy and emotions, awkward and uneasy body language.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeez,” John murmured, “Sounds like a death-knell.”</p><p><br/>“It is.”</p><p><br/>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Mr. Watson. For the new John to emerge from the shell, the old John must actually die. The trick is not only to learn new things but also unlearn quite a bit. For the next four weeks, please trust me and hand yourself over to me and my team completely. You can do this if you set your mind to it and agree to pick things up fast. Slow and steady may win some races and Rome wasn’t built in a day, two golden proverbs used by lazy asses who want to put things off till tomorrow. You must learn and learn quickly, sometimes on the fly.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>In a week’s time John already began to feel like a new person. Rigorous training but mixed with fun elements made him look forward to his lessons rather than be put off by the 16 hour days with his new mentor. Greg was an immensely interesting individual, very knowledgeable and witty, and it was a pleasure to learn from him. His methods were on-the-job, kinesthetic and diagnostic in style, perfect for adults. He was not preachy nor prescriptive and made things sound simple and easy, besides always offering a logic behind each instruction he gave John.</p><p> </p><p>“You must know your table manners, at least the basic ones. Know the cutlery, utensils, which one to use and when, how to sip your champagne or the sparkling rose. It’s useful to know how to use chopsticks as well. Might be useful while dining at Asian restaurants. Recognize your cheeses and wines and cuts of meat. Now, you may never be ready to dine with the queen, but I can assure you that you will be the one people would look to before they choose the fork for the next course.”</p><p> </p><p>John not only learned table manners and the names of wines and cheese but also how to cook some really quick and easy dishes, even some gourmet ones. The correct pronunciation was also taught by one of the ladies who worked there while Greg’s secretary, a young man about John’s age, began to train him on speech and body language. Greg focused on building John’s confidence and knowledge and was pleasantly surprised at how easily and quickly his client picked up on his points. He also read between the lines and innovated on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>“Now,” he said after another week had passed, “I will help you understand your date. What should you look for when you’re with your beloved and want to gauge their mood, intentions and desires? It’s always preferred to be on the same page instead of making wild guesses.”</p><p> </p><p>“Phil always seems to know what to do,” John said, “You suppose I will get there as well?”</p><p> </p><p>Greg smiled a bit crookedly, “From what I heard, he’s not such a winner really. He assumes a lot and does what <em>he likes</em>, not what <em>Sherlock likes</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are right!” John exclaimed, “Now as I think about those moments, Sherlock doesn’t even get a chance to agree or disagree.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am always right my friend,” Greg said with a noble expression, “Now if this man is interested in you he will make special efforts to look attractive to you, check himself out in any mirror or shiny surface you pass by, ensure his hair is okay, he has shaved properly etc. You’ll find him giving you glances on the sly, then looking away quickly when you look back at him.”</p><p><br/>“Yes,” John pumped his fist in the air, “You’re right. All these things happened. I also look away then so he’s not uncomfortable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who says he is?” Greg countered. John blinked, once again taken aback by his ignorance about something. His assistant, one of the ladies who always remained in their vicinity and ready to help, quipped, “He wants you to keep looking, to be the one leading the moves in this relationship. You shouldn’t gawk into his face like an idiot but you must not come across as a shy wilting wallflower either. You see John, everyone likes attention. Over a period of time he too will give you the attention you seek but to get something, you must contribute something first. Please begin by asking him about his work, family, passions, ambitions, dreams, things he strongly believes in etc. Without these inputs you won’t even get a proper chance to have a constructive, engaging conversation with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want to pry…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Prying is when you ask him about his past, if you look through his phone, ask his bank details.”</p><p> </p><p>“So asking him about his family, college days, his work, students, what he does over the weekend, that’s not prying?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all,” Greg chipped in this time, “That’s called ‘showing an avid interest’. Why would he be with you if you don’t show that?”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After two weeks Sherlock felt so restless he was unable to sleep properly at night. “Find out what’s happened dear,” Mrs. Hudson advised one evening as she cooked dinner and Sherlock folded the laundry.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even know where to call, never took his phone number,” Sherlock sighed and shook his head in self-regret, “Silly me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now let’s not curse ourselves for the past, instead better be future-ready, don’t you think?” She smiled encouragingly, “Listen, don’t assume the worst. He could have gone away for a few days for work, for some personal commitment or something related to his independent assignments. Maybe a wedding, someone ill in his family, a client who put him on aggressive timelines. If you are so impatient, go and find out at his office.”</p><p> </p><p>“Office?????”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, why not? Is his office outside the galaxy?”                     </p><p> </p><p>So, later that day, Sherlock found himself heading towards Magnussen, Stamford and Watson – Modern Art &amp; Designs, Corporate and Premium Gifting. He had been there once before so he knew where it was. Even the first time around it hadn’t been too difficult to find it as it was located in the prestigious business hub of ‘20<sup>th</sup> Century Tech-Wizards’ and the signage was prominently displayed right at the main gate as well as on the building where the company occupied the entire third floor. After hesitating for a full fifteen minutes Sherlock finally managed to get into the elevator and head for the designated floor. “Excuse me,” said a well-dressed gentleman standing next to him, “But if I am not mistaken, you won the GQ ‘Look of the Week’ last week?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he said, “That was Benedict Cumberbatch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you mean you’re not him?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, no, I am not……”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, I know that was a poor joke but I just had to ask. The resemblance is striking. You’re far handsomer though.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock squirmed with unease and shock. He was not used to being flirted with so openly, that too at a place where his John worked. “I… um, I’m sorry, I have to go now. This is my floor.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very interesting,” the man said with a big smile and a chivalrous gesture, ushering him out of the elevator, “It so happens that this is my stop too. Imagine, in a building that consists of sixteen floors, both of us have business on the third. By the way, I am one of the partners at the Magnussen, Stamford and Watson. Are you here on behalf of one of our clients?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock heaved a sigh of relief. So this man wasn’t stalking him or harassing him. It was truly a very extraordinary coincidence. “No, I have come here for some information, actually information of a personal nature. I-I have a friend who works here. He hasn’t been around for a few days and I am a bit worried. So I thought I’ll check on him or at least if I get to know that he’s gone somewhere out of town…..”</p><p><br/>“John Watson?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, that’s him.”</p><p> </p><p>The next reaction from the stranger was quite unexpected. He shook Sherlock’s hand and introduced himself, “Mike Stamford.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.”</p><p> </p><p>The amiable man slapped him lightly on the arm, “Pleased to meet you Sherlock! I know John very well for several years. He’s a friend and a partner here. You know, your boyfriend is one of the best Lego artists in the world. With proper channels advertising his talent and a little more branding, he can become the best ever. He will outgrow our company soon, that I am sure of.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Your boyfriend! Wow, so that’s what it seems to him! I wonder if John told him so!!</em> Sherlock somehow felt very flattered to be called John’s boyfriend so, even though he almost objected to that premature assumption, he didn’t eventually protest. Instead he smiled happily, more at ease now. Once he had understood this man was not hitting on him, it made things look much better and simpler. Mike was perhaps just the sort of person who loved to talk a lot, he wasn’t someone with the wrong intentions. “I am pleased to meet you Mr. Stamford,” he returned the greeting cheerfully, “Would you happen to know if John is away on a business tour or if he’s unwell? I haven’t seen him around for a full fortnight now, so I was a bit worried and decided to find out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah I see. But why did you come down all the way just for this? You could have called. Or maybe called his cell phone.”</p><p> </p><p><em>How am I supposed to say I don’t have his contact?</em> “I wanted to surprise him,” he said lamely, hoping to be believed.</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately the surprise is on you,” Mike replied, “He’s not in the office. I am not sure what his reasons are but he is away for a few weeks. I was traveling when he left so I didn’t get a chance to ask him. You see, he’s a partner in the firm so he’d entitled to work from anywhere and take time off as he pleases. As long as he fulfils the commitment to the firm in terms of funds and client servicing.”</p><p><br/>“Yeah, you’re right. I should have called.”</p><p><br/>“Here, please take my business card. Next time just call and I’ll tell that forgetful man to never disappear like that ever again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you Mr….”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-Oh. Mr. Stamford is my father. Call me Mike please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you Mike. I’ll be on my way then!”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure you don’t want some coffee or tea….” Mike insisted. “No, no,” Sherlock refused politely, “I have to be back to work. I have already missed one class.”</p><p> </p><p>“See you again Sherlock,” Mike said raising his hand in goodbye, “John is a lucky man!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As one of my friends here stated, John is about to grow a pair of them between his legs....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. From Guru to Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John is almost ready to get back to London and to his Sherlock</p><p>That also means battling someone to claim his love</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Miss you,” John whispered as he stared out of the window, eyes on the distance where he saw a couple strolling down the cobbled street. It was a gay couple and from a distance one of the men looked like Sherlock, with collar length curly dark hairs and a long and lean build.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been three whole weeks, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>The voice came right behind his left ear and John almost fell out of the window as he got a start! Exhaling with relief when he saw it was Greg Lestrade standing a foot behind him, grinning, he smiled from ear to ear and said, “It’s been so! But the good news is, only one week left now!” Greg smiled and gestured for John to come out on the terrace with him, which John did. The two of them stood there, under the open skies, watching the people in the distance. A slice of the busy street could be seen, followed by the less populated narrower street that led towards the cul-de-sac and finally the sparse population around the cul-de-sac or the courtyard/lawns of the properties around them.</p><p> </p><p>“You see John,” Greg pointed with his pipe, “In the distance you see people who are clearly very busy. They’re not walking, they’re running. In that street you see people walking, normal pace, some heading towards a destination while others are between tasks. Then here, just a hundred and fifty meters from the bustling street, people strolling, stalling, taking a moment to look at the flowers. You see people are like that, each one has their own agenda, their own pace. In your case, as also Sherlock’s, neither of you men are likely to jump into bed at the first opportunity. But that doesn’t mean passion should not exist.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am passionate, I want to kiss him but…..”</p><p> </p><p>“No but’s here. Either you want to or you don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Demonstrate.”</p><p> </p><p>“On YOU???”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t suppose I am that disgusting but I understand your reservations. Try Belinda. What? No? You need a guy! Okay, try my secretary Pierre.”</p><p> </p><p>Pierre had walked up to his boss to get some papers signed. The moment he heard that, he immediately went closer to John and got into character. “Go on,” he said with remarkable ease, “Practice. Show Mr. Lestrade how you’d approach your man and kiss him. Just don’t actually kiss me please, I am straight and have a fiancée!”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded a bit stiffly. He counted to three, grabbed Pierre and pulled him closer with a jerk.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no,” Pierre jerked his head back and held up both hands, “Nope, definitely not like that. Mr. Lestrade he needs extensive training in this. It seemed like someone was pulling me to bang my head on some hard surface as a punishment. Didn’t feel like a prelude to a kiss, not at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“So I saw.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg Lestrade then proceeded to demonstrate on Belinda as well as Pierre. Even though John felt pretty awkward watching them, everyone else was totally professional and relaxed. Even the housekeeper Olga, who was of half Russian descent and spoke very little, watered the plants without even casting a glance in their direction. “He is a man, so no need to treat him like a piece of glass,” Lestrade advised, “But no need to treat him like a prisoner either. Hold his face gently but firmly, look into his eyes, let the romance and desire flow through your body naturally. Start with a tentative peck on the lips at first. If his eyes flutter shut then he’s willing to surrender. If his eyes are half open then you need to stroke his cheek and give him a chance to sink into this. Don’t rush for he’s willing but not completely ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if his eyes are open wide?” John asked curiously.</p><p> </p><p>“Then he’s either pretending to be in love with you or you have body odor,” came the nonchalant response from his guru.</p><p> </p><p>“How-How am I doing nowadays?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty good. I think you’ll be ready in another ten days. Exactly 30 days and you’re ready to get on that morning flight back to London, back to your Sherlock.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“This is for you,” Phillip Andersen placed a box right in the middle of the table, between Sherlock’s plate and Victor’s. That day Victor’s longstanding girlfriend Eva was also at the table. She was a member of the college’s administrative group.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Phil,” Eva snapped, “You almost put that in my soup.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well the key word is almost,” Phil was unbothered by her statement and focused on Sherlock who stared at the gift as if it was a bomb hidden inside, “I have been noticing, you look a bit upset and a little too quiet lately so I thought these might cheer you up. I got you your favorite things, a bottle of Scotch, a dartboard and different types of games for your PlayStation. I am sure you’d really like them all.”</p><p> </p><p>“But these are not even his favorite,” Victor frowned, “Scotch, games……?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, then they must be mine,” Phil said cockily, “But I am sure Sherlock will appreciate them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you allow him to do this to you?” Eva asked irritably the moment Phillip left to get his food from the counter. She lowered her voice so he wouldn’t hear, “He has started to assume he owns you. You are your own man. He’s being ‘on the face’ now, as if he’s sure you’ll play along. How can he take you for granted?”</p><p> </p><p>“And we are not even a couple if you ask me,” Sherlock sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“Then may I ask why you allow him such liberties?” Victor snapped at him. Immediately Eva slapped her fiancé’s wrist and said, “Come on, I am sure Sherlock knows what he is doing.” But this time around Sherlock didn’t stay quiet and let others think as they saw fit. He had found a bit of a voice, thanks to John’s presence and subsequently his absence, and he was determined not to let go of it. “He is right E,” he said with a resigned look, “I have been a bit of a doormat and sometimes that comes across as boring, people find me easy to dominate. I have allowed my awkwardness and inexperience rule me for too long. Maybe that’s why I haven’t dated anyone yet, probably that’s why Phil thinks he rules me, maybe that’s exactly why John just abruptly disappeared……”</p><p> </p><p>“Disappeared?” Victor lowered his brows, “You didn’t tell me!”</p><p><br/>“Who’s that?” Eva asked curiously.</p><p> </p><p>“No, nothing,” Sherlock became tight-lipped again.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell us.”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t seen him in close to a month. Actually three weeks and three days if you ask me to be absolutely precise. He used to diligently meet me every weekday earlier, in better times. I have no idea why this happened and where he might be. But this taught me a lesson you know, I realized I never gave John an impression I want him around. I never spoke much, never stopped Phil whenever he used to butt in, start being the pathetic attention seeker that he is……”</p><p> </p><p>“Hello again,” Phil sat down at the table boisterously, “Sherrrlock, I got two ice creams for us. Chocolate chip, just what we like.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t,” Sherlock began.</p><p> </p><p>“I am sure you’ll love it,” Phil said, tone deaf and stubborn, “Oh, don’t forget we are participating in the stage performance tomorrow. Our students expect our item to be the showstopper, hope you’ve tuned your violin and got fresh strings.”</p><p> </p><p>“When did I commit to this?” Sherlock asked, eyes wide. Next to him Eva bristled with anger, “Whose idea is it Phil? Tomorrow is the annual day of the institution, any item to be presented on stage is usually agreed upon almost a month ago!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I agreed on behalf of myself and Sherlock,” Phil went on, unrepentant, “Someone bailed out last week and they needed a replacement. Imagine me on piano and Sherlock on violin, it is going to be the best item of the evening. Mark my words.”</p><p> </p><p>“Asshole,” Victor muttered under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“So your training is done and tomorrow morning you go back home,” Greg Lestrade announced as he, his three lady assistants, his secretary Pierre, Olga and John sat down for a special meal in John’s honor. This meal had been ordered from a gourmet restaurant, giving Olga an evening off as well. The usually reticent woman was quite friendly and chatty that evening. “To John,” she raised her glass and everyone followed suit, “May he succeed in his mission and we hope that every day and every single pound sterling he spent here, counts twice as much in worth and results!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you all,” John said, “I am indebted and honored and very humbled. It is a month indeed but it felt much shorter. Every day just flew past. I have learned as much in the last four weeks as I have learned in the first two decades of my life.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Greg said, “Now put it to good use. Remember, your parents are no longer around and your sister has her own family and life now. You are responsible for your own present and future and every decision you take henceforth, own them fully. If they work for you, rejoice. If they don’t work for you, treat them as lessons and become wiser. Never let your confidence flounder and never allow people to disrespect you. You are better than the man you were yesterday and much smarter too!”</p><p> </p><p>“I sure hope.”</p><p><br/>“Hope?”</p><p> </p><p>“I sure am.”</p><p><br/>“That’s better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you called and told Sherlock?” Celeste, one of the women, asked enthusiastically, “You two make such a cute pair! Do send us some photographs.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will,” John said, “But no, not called him. I shall surprise him at the same spot we used to meet in. Just outside the train station.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you buy a gift for him?” Pierre checked. “Yes,” John nodded, “I bought things that I am sure he likes and would appreciate.</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of gift is it?” Greg enquired curiously, “And did you write a small and heartfelt note along with it? I hope you didn’t make it too mushy or apologize for your absence. Always stand by your reasons and never back down just to make someone happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” John smiled, “Apologize for the loneliness they felt, not for the decision you made of getting away. Here, please look at the gifts and read the note as well. I really want to know if I have graduated or not because I did this entirely without any assistance or suggestions.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg took the gifts in his hands and smiled at the appropriateness and taste. The first was an elegant gentleman’s umbrella, super-size with a hand-carved wooden handle that ended in a wolf head. The other was a set of three books on basic magic, beekeeping, terrace gardening and one fat book which had four biographies curated and combined, all of them of renowned violinists and composers from the past. Paganini, Bach, Yehudi Menuhin and Beethoven. “Good, excellent, apt,” he smiled and heard the audible sigh of relief from his charge, “These are his interests and you had plenty of time to absorb those little hints and clues while watching him from a close distance. So you put your instincts and observations to good use and I am pleased to see the results.”</p><p> </p><p>“As for the umbrella, English weather you know. I somehow felt it would suit him. He’s tall and subtly elegant, attractive so the colors of the brolly…..”</p><p> </p><p>“I approve.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks! How about the note?”</p><p> </p><p>“I shall read it now.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg unfolded the note and read it meticulously. John’s handwriting was not too good so he wanted to type it, but Greg had insisted on a handwritten note instead of typed, to show a personal touch and the fact that John cared to make an effort. The result proved that John had indeed made an effort. While the writing was not pretty nor aesthetic nor artistic, it had been written slowly to make each letter stand out and the message behind those words was quite touching, even if brief.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dearest Sherlock</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Missed you a lot, more than I thought I would. Work will keep us apart from time to time but you don’t need to endure boredom on those tedious train rides. Here are a few books that could be perfect companions, on those rides, over lazy Sunday afternoons and as bedtime literature. The umbrella is a necessity but this particular umbrella simply begged to belong to you. I somehow associated it with you, long and elegant and graceful, subtle colors and yet so fascinating. Hope you like them, enjoy them and remember me when you do!</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>John</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I chose not to write ‘darling’ or ‘baby’ at the beginning and ‘your John’ at the end as it would have been too premature,” John explained, “Rewrote this at least sixteen times Mr. Lestrade.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg was quiet for a little while. Then he folded the note and gave John a fond, somewhat emotional smile. “You know John, this is perfect. This indeed is your graduation and you graduated with flying colors. You have grasped the concepts, altered your behavioral patterns, put most of my lessons into practice and that too with remarkable success. I think my job here is done and you can take it on from here.” John flashed a profoundly grateful smile and grasped Greg’s hands, giving them a two handed squeeze. In a tone that reflected nothing but reverence, he said, “I couldn’t have done this without you Mr. Lestrade. I had no idea I could ever be confident, articulate or just stop being awkward.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re far from awkward now. But do remember that this is only the first step. You have to face Sherlock and win him over with your words and overtures, remember I mean to say ‘genuine’ words and overtures. He must think you are the best man for him, the <em>right man</em> for him. Whether you’re a male or female, you eventually look for someone who’s perfect for you. They needn’t be perfect for real, they just need to be what you need. Find out what Sherlock needs, feed him that and he will be yours forever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, of course, I am ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“Big impediment – Phillip Andersen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am ready for him too Mr. Lestrade.”</p><p> </p><p>“Greg.”</p><p> </p><p>John blinked and smiled. Greg nodded, “Yes, please call me Greg from now on. Here onwards we are friends and not guru and disciple.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright Greg.”</p><p> </p><p>By the way, in about three to four weeks I shall visit London to watch the progress. From a distance of course. If you are struggling I can stay back a week or so and help. Sometimes the results do not show immediately so be alert, but also be patient.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would be very kind of you,” John said, “I’ll handle this with patience and tact. I just hope Sherlock is not too angry with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“If he is, consider yourself lucky,” Greg answered, “We don’t get angry at or upset with strangers. That’s reserved only for those we care about. So, in case your Sherlock is a bit annoyed at your disappearance it only means he cares enough to be affected by it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. New Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John and his newfound confidence are back in London and Sherlock is thrilled to bits</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock stood at the bus stop, staring listlessly at the bleak, gray surroundings. It had been pissing down with rain since the night before and if the weather was not depressing enough, he had just heard more depressing news. Henry, his only friend, was going away for a fortnight for work. Victor, the only colleague he got along and sometimes lunched with had also sent him a message stating he was taking some time off. He was getting engaged to his Eva.</p><p> </p><p>Not that he wasn’t happy for his friends, he sure was, but it all added up to his own loneliness and confusion. He cursed John for making him desire company and then abandoning him without a reason or warning.</p><p> </p><p>He was so fed up of feeling lonely and odd on those train rides that he had started taking the cab or the bus. He had plenty of money and could even buy a car if he wanted, so why buy that pass and take the train. He’d change that part of his life. Heck, he would change a lot of other parts, including maybe his job. He had a spectacular offer to do things completely differently. A friend of his brother’s was in the publishing industry and keen to make him sign a book deal. At the same time a leading scholar and Nobel Laureate wanted him to work with him, complete his research work and become Dr. Sherlock Holmes. After that he would easily become a professional consultant, to the government and private consortiums, and make three times the money he was making as a professor.</p><p> </p><p>If only money could make him happier…..</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Now why was someone screeching? No, that was a horn honking. Oh damn that guy…. Ohhh!</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>John Hamish Watson</em>. It was John fucking Watson for real. After weeks of seeing imaginary John, Sherlock took a while to understand and accept this was really John who was sitting on a brand new shiny motorcycle, only six feet away from him. He was honking, waving his arm and grinning broadly behind the trendy racer’s helmet. When Sherlock finally smiled back, he took off the helmet and said, “Hop on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” a middle-aged man standing next to him said with a snort, “Before he makes us all go deaf with that honking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Sherlock said and rushed over to John, forgetting his anger. He was just very happy to see John back.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! You’re back!”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. This is indeed me and not my hologram! I am back and at your service Mr. Holmes.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock stared at John in complete and utter amazement and fascinated delight. He was the same man, the same person and yet there was something so different about him. He seemed taller, straighter and healthier somehow. His cheeks were glowing and so were his eyes. Happiness and confidence radiated off him in buckets and for some peculiar reason it made Sherlock horny as hell. His breathing grew heavier!</p><p> </p><p>“Happy to see me?” John asked, “I am really here Sherlock!”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock knew this seemed foolish but he needed to do this, he had to assure himself he was not dreaming and John was back. He had to touch him for that was the only way to be absolutely sure he wasn’t dreaming! He reached out tentatively and John took off his helmet and got it out of the way, shaking his head a bit to release his hair and allow its natural flow and soft texture to take shape. He smiled even more broadly, a mixture of amusement and passion in his eyes as he realized what Sherlock was about to do. One-Two-Three he counted and then came the touch, a feathery light one as Sherlock let the pads of his fingers ghost over the blond man’s forehead and let it trail down his nose before withdrawing, a look of wonder on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherl,” John whispered, “Hop on!”</p><p><br/>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ride with me. I got a spare helmet too.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…. where had you been?”</p><p> </p><p>“Had some personal work. Sorry to have kept you in the dark. Now, can you start work a little later today? Is there someone who can fill-in for you? Maybe two hours or so?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a class but I can postpone that to later today. I could ask…. Mrs. Chakraborty to take the class instead. She has asked me to fill-in for her several times last month. In fact she can take all three of my classes and one is an extra class, so I can take it online later in the evening….. No, I didn’t mean to say I won’t attend work today, I was just wondering aloud……” Sherlock blushed deep red and looked away.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherl,” John was pleased as punch, “I didn’t want to put pressure on you to take a day off, unplanned and sudden, but that doesn’t mean I am averse to the idea. You have no idea how happy this makes me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean you want me to….?”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded, “Does the bunny love carrots?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock grinned and whipped out his cell phone. “Let me call her right away. She deserves advance notice for this. She’ll be occupied all day today, taking her classes and mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then by all means do call her but wait just a few more minutes to do so,” John said, staring at the skies, “It’s going to pour again Sherlock. We should be somewhere safe, warm and cozy. Even the mercury seems to have dipped at least ten degrees overnight, don’t you think? And this blustering wind is getting worse as we speak.”</p><p> </p><p>As if to prove John’s point, a big drop of water splashed on to Sherlock’s nose and they both laughed. “Sure thing,” Sherlock donned the helmet and rode pillion with John, “Let’s go. But where to?”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When Sherlock returned home it was almost eight-thirty in the evening. To <em>his surprise, he saw the door was ajar and he could hear Mrs. Hudson talking to someone inside. She usually leaves by seven-thirty! </em>“Mummy and daddy have come,” he said to himself, “No, it might be Myc and….. alright, let me see!” He pushed the door and stepped inside he saw Phil Andersen there, standing at the threshold of the open kitchen, the terrace door open behind him and letting in all the cold watery breeze into the apartment. No wonder he could feel a draft right there as he walked in. “Hi Phil,” he called out.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh there you are Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson looked cross and said, “I’ll leave now. I am already late by over one hour.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, but why did you even need to stay back…..” Sherlock began talking to her, ignoring the other man, when Phil cut him off rudely, as he usually did with everybody. “She was worried that you were late, no information, no phone call, nothing. So was I. When I told her you hadn’t come to work today and not answered even one of my dozen calls all day, she got really anxious. So was I,” he rattled off, scarcely waiting to catch his breath or give Sherlock a chance to respond, “I thought I’ll check with Trevor but someone told me he’s taken this week off……”</p><p> </p><p>“Not sure why anyone would need to worry about a thirty year old man,” Sherlock said a bit coldly, “Mrs. Hudson?”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t worried,” she quipped, “Though he tried his best to make me so!”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock gave Phil a quizzical look.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, where were you?” Phil didn’t seem to even realize his lies were showing, so was his stupidity, “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was busy.”</p><p> </p><p>“But….”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock was not having any of Phil’s possessive nonsense anymore. John’s return had emboldened him. “I am tired Phil and I need to rest. I had taken the day off and I had my personal work to attend to. Mrs. Hudson, please keep dinner in the fridge. I’ll have it tomorrow. You can take the day off tomorrow actually.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned towards his unwelcome visitor and yawned in an exaggerated manner. “Goodnight Phil, you should be on your way home.”</p><p> </p><p>“But then I…..” Phil began but Sherlock was already walking down the hallway, heading for his bedroom. “I was just…..” he began again, this time looking at the housekeeper for some support. Mrs. Hudson shut the terrace door and bolted it. Then she coolly picked up her umbrella and purse and said, “Let me walk you downstairs, till the sidewalk or the end of the street Mr. Andersen.” A totally baffled Phil waited for a few moments, trying to make sense of the situation and hoping Sherlock would ask him to stay back for a drink or coffee but the bedroom door clicked shut. Seeing no other way, Phil turned towards the door and replied in a meek voice, “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Culverton Smith was shocked.</p><p> </p><p>“How did I make such a mistake?” He kept repeating to Sally who in turn kept rolling her eyes and telling him he had sawed off his own legs.</p><p> </p><p>For two whole days he had been receiving visits and phone calls from several prospective buyers, all of them asking for the ‘classic automobile’ he had sold a month and half ago to the meekly simpleton named Watson. He didn’t even know the first name, or else he would have easily found him through the telephone directory or internet and landed up at his house to buy the car back from him. He had sold it for forty-five grand but now he had customers who were willing to pay around seventy to eighty five for it.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think he will come back complaining?” He asked Sally, “Just like the last three buyers who came back and returned the vehicle to me? Remember?”</p><p><br/>“How could I forget?” She snorted, “One held a gun to your temple, two others brought goons to rough you up.”</p><p><br/>“Yeah-Yeah-Yeah,” Culverton snapped, “Don’t sass me. You still work for me and I can fire you anytime I want, remember that.”</p><p> </p><p>Sally just twisted her mouth in disgust but didn’t counter that logic. She tossed her curly locks back from her shoulder and said, “Maybe this fellow won’t be back. He seemed too much of a gentleman to do so.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just now I accepted a ten grand advance from the next buyer. He will pay me eighty-five overall. What do I do about that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can give him the car and take the balance money. In fact you can call him right now and tell him to be on his way. See over there boss, the same man has arrived and he is driving that very car now. Our car, the Pagani…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Shush,” Culverton got up from his glass cubicle, “I shall handle this now, don’t even come out of this cubicle until he is gone.” With that, the middle-aged man put on a plastic smile and walked towards the door. John who had just stepped into the showroom was almost immediately assaulted by the presence and sugary manners of the conman. “Oh what a pleasant surprise sir,” Culverton rushed over to open the door wider for John, expecting him to start firing him right away for selling a junk at an exorbitant price, “I hope you’re not in a hurry. We have this really nice brew for some of our special customers such as yourself. I’ll just get you a cuppa while you sit here, in this VIP waiting room. Do you want a newspaper or any magazine? Sports Illustrated or National Geographic?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, I didn’t come here to look for another car,” John said with a huge grin.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t?” Culverton stepped back in bafflement.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not at all. I just wanted to tell you that I am mighty pleased with my purchase…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…..”</p><p> </p><p>“I just want an amateur rally with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh? You won a rally with that?”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded, “Why does that surprise you? I am very happy with the car. Yes I had to spend some money on it because it’s a matter of endurance and speed over three whole days, so didn’t want to put my little car through hell without proper preparations. But that’s totally fine given how well it drove during the rally and how many people wanted to take it off my hands immediately afterwards.”</p><p> </p><p>Culverton’s head was spinning. While he was quite relieved that one more customer hadn’t stormed in cursing at him for selling that car by deceit, he was also worried that John would not part from it now. He had an opportunity to win a bigger profit from this car.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s-That’s very good news,” he stammered, “S-Sir, would you consider selling-selling this car back to me? I-I have emotional attachments to it sir and want it back. I had to sell it due to some financial issues but now those are sorted…. They are all sorted. I can pay you more.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bought it for forty-five and spent about fifteen on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“No worries, none at all. I shall give you sixty grand right away for it.”</p><p> </p><p>An hour later John had sold back the car for full fifteen thousand extra pounds to the same man who had conned him six weeks ago. He quickly called one of his ‘hired hands’ and said, “Come over and take your ten grand back, plus two thousand more for your services. Thank your boys please and thank you too.”</p><p> </p><p>It was he who had sent those men to the showroom, giving Culverton the impression that he had not only made a mistake selling that car but he now had an opportunity to sell it for a higher sum too. He knew the conman, who always danced to the tunes of money and profits, could be easily fooled like that. Thanks to Greg’s lessons he knew one could win by playing on one’s strengths or playing out another person’s weaknesses. This time he had adopted the latter method and succeeded. Not only was the purchase cost and the cost of repairs on the car covered, he had also covered the ten thousand advance his man had given Culverton as well as their service fees.</p><p> </p><p>“Now to buy a real car,” he said, smiling broadly to himself.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Oh wow,” Sherlock was pretty taken aback as he stepped out of the rowhouse and saw John waiting right there with a shiny new silver-colored Audi A4, “New car!!! AlreadyI thought you had bought a motorcycle and that would be sufficient.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Kawasaki Ranger?” John said, “I bought that too. But a car is also necessary, you see! Weekends we’ll use the motorcycle. Weekdays and rainy days are for the car.”</p><p><br/>“It’s not a rainy day though,” Sherlock said with a big smile as he looked at the clear skies above and the rays of sunshine around him, “I must say London’s mood improved and the weather got merrier thanks to the return of John Watson.” He paused, a bit dumbstruck by his own forwardness. Since when did he start talking so much and with such underlying hints? Still, it felt good to do so. He didn’t mind the fact that John seemed different since his return and that difference was rubbing off on him too.</p><p> </p><p>“The sunshine song,” John said as he held the door open, “It seemed silly back then but right now, the lyrics ‘You are my sunshine’ seem to have taken an entirely new meaning for me.”</p><p><br/>“Is that so?”</p><p> </p><p>“Very much so. In fact I would have sung that for you but my voice….. Um, no, leave it. I don’t wanna scare your neighbors.”</p><p> </p><p>“Guess what,” Sherlock began, “Last evening Phil….” When he was cut off by a loud ‘Sherrrlock’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Tables Turn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John the Cool one vs Andersen the smartass</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At any other point in time John would have groaned with frustration, letting himself get crushed by defeatist thoughts, but this was John rebooted, the new John 2.0 and an improvised version. He could easily handle the likes of a Phillip Andersen and swallow that obnoxious pretentious idiot with his breakfast tea. “Oh damn,” Sherlock huffed, “How did he show up here? Oh I forgot, last night he was here, waiting in my house for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that so?” John stepped protectively before Sherlock, “Okay, we will handle this. Actually, allow me to do that. Please stay in the car, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Sherlock said with a giggle and got into John’s car. Phil had parked his car a little ahead of John’s and was now marching towards their car with great gusto, crinkling his nose as he saw the vehicle John had driven up in. Clearly upset and jealous, he had just opened his mouth to call out to Sherlock again when John intercepted him – physically and verbally. “Hey, that’s a no-parking zone,” the blond man pointed, planting himself straight into Phil’s path, “You don’t really want to inconvenience Sherlock’s neighbors and have them complain to Sherlock later, do you? Be sensible now. Move your tin can a bit ahead. We’ll be done in just a few minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tin can….”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh do it Andersen. Look, that lady over there is about to shout at you.”</p><p> </p><p>Actually the lady was watering her roses but Phil got a bit unnerved and returned to his car, starting the engine and moving it up by about twenty meters. But as the minutes ticked his patience began to wear thin. Sherlock kept sitting in John’s car and John kept standing beside it, both men engrossed in a conversation packed with laughter and animated gestures. Scowling, Phil honked the car horn several times.</p><p> </p><p>John merely raised an arm and asked him to wait.</p><p> </p><p>Five more minutes and Sherlock showed no urge to move. Phil Andersen honked again. This time neither Sherlock nor John responded, instead they kept chatting.</p><p> </p><p>“You should have seen his face when I asked him to go, without offering him anything,” Sherlock was laughing as he and John kept up a lively conversation, neither of them interested in allowing Phil to ruin their moments, “He looked like he had swallowed a live frog.”</p><p> </p><p>“Attaboy!” John said, “Don’t let him bully you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t. But I do feel bad about the way we’re treating him; after all he’s a colleague and it’s quite evident he likes me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you mean but his ways and methods are all wrong. He shouldn’t think you’re obligated to do things his way. A lesson in being more open-minded and easygoing is on the cards then, for Mr. Phillip Rodham Andersen, what say?”</p><p> </p><p>“He doesn’t even get the hint. See how he’s honking away. Sometimes his behavior is downright boorish and unacceptable.”</p><p> </p><p>John looked at Phil’s head sticking out of the window and saw how passers by turned and looked at him with frowns. He was creating quite the racket with his honking and yelling. God, did the man have no manners at all? Every time he tried to soften his approach, Phil gave him a new reason to detest him. “You are right Sherl,” he murmured, “This is indeed unacceptable. So then let’s play <em>his game</em> and give him a taste of <em>his own medicine</em>.” He whispered his plans into Sherlock’s ear and Sherlock nodded with glee. “God, I’d really like to see the look on his face,” the young professor got out of the car and came around it, “He’ll be outraged, to put it mildly. See you later then Jawn.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil was sitting and jiggling his right knee, something he always did whenever he was impatient. When the door on the passenger’s side opened and closed, he finally let out the breath that he didn’t even realize he had been holding in. <em>Oh so that was what made me feel such an intense tightness in my chest</em>. With a big grin he turned to talk to Sherlock when he realized it was John who had just sat in his car. Grinning like a crook, John pointed at the wheel and said, “Drive!”</p><p> </p><p>“But…. But…. But….”</p><p> </p><p>A car passed them by and he jumped, “There! That is Sherlock! He is driving away from us. He is in your car!” Clearly dismayed, Phil switched off the engine by mistake without putting the gear into neutral. As a result, the car jumped and jerked like a horse coming to an abrupt halt.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, he has to go somewhere,” John said nonchalantly as if this was the most likely thing to happen, “So I loaned him my car. Now can you please drop me to my workplace? Sherlock told me you will be happy to do so.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil was staring at him dumbly.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall we?” John asked again.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock told you?”</p><p><br/>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…. Okay, alright.”</p><p> </p><p>He drove on, looking morose and crestfallen. John sat tight on his seat, looking out of the window and trying very hard not to burst into laughter. Phil Andersen’s face looked so comical!</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“He gave you this?” Phil was totally zapped by the influence John had on Sherlock. It had been just a week since the man had resurfaced after a brief hiatus and in just those handful of days Sherlock seemed to be so drawn towards him that Phillip Andersen’s small brain couldn’t make any sense of it. All he kept thinking was ‘He used to listen to me earlier, do almost everything my way, but now he doesn’t seem to care’.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Sherlock said, turning his wrist proudly, “It’s my birthday next week. He gave me the gift a little early. We went out last afternoon, watched a concert, then shopped and bought gifts for each other. He got me this Longines watch and I got him a limited edition Mont Blanc Personalized pen.”</p><p> </p><p><em>They are meeting over the weekends now! No, this can’t be. He never meets me over weekends or holidays. Sherlock’s birthday is next week! Damn, how did I not remember this, why didn’t I note it somewhere? How did I allow John to beat me on this and give him a birthday gift in advance?</em> A bit pale and unsettled, he tried to influence his love-interest again. “But you never accept gifts I have given you. You have returned a few and I am sure the rest you have never even used. He gives you something and you wear it the very next day?!? He should not be forcing you, persuading you to do things his way. No, that’s not a good idea. Start saying ‘no’ to him from now on Sherlock.”</p><p> </p><p>“Phil, I like the gifts he gives me. He gave me very thoughtful gifts when he came back from Paris. Books I always wanted, things that are useful and match my tastes and personality. This time, for my birthday, he made me choose my gift. This watch was my own preference and I see no reason why I shouldn’t wear it.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, Sherlock got up from the table they were sitting at and went off. “I have a class now,” he declared on his way out. Phil looked at the two women seated at the other end of the table in the staff lounge and was rather irked when he saw they were grinning. “He has really changed,” he snapped as he too got up to leave.</p><p> </p><p>“Who has?” A voice asked from somewhere behind him. The formidable person he saw was not someone to be trifled with. She was feared and respected by all. Even the principle seemed to treat her with caution. Sherlock was one of her protégés and friends.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Mrs. Chakraborty?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, the one and only! What were you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>Miss Atkinson, one of the ladies at the end of the table and a lecturer in the Labor laws and personnel management course, quipped cheekily, “He said Sherlock has changed a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Mrs. Chakraborty said with a wicked smile, “I don’t think Sherlock has really changed. Only his preference has changed. Earlier, for some reason, he used to prefer oafs. Now he seems to have found an equal, someone he should have found a long time ago.”</p><p> </p><p>The two other ladies laughed none too quietly. Sensing that staying back here would only make him lose face and feel the pinpricks of such unsubtle insults, Phil almost backheeled out of the room. Mrs. Runa Chakraborty adjusted the glasses on her nose and gave a sharp glance in the direction of the departing man and muttered, “Idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Two weeks into his return and one day before Sherlock’s birthday, John got a call from Greg Lestrade. Excited, he answered the call and almost immediately started rattling off his success story with Sherlock. “It’s not just Sherlock and Phil who seem to have noticed the changes in me, I made some of my colleagues and employees realize who the boss is,” John said excitedly, “I want you to come to my office and observe. You’ll be assured I am not exaggerating. Your training and mentoring has helped me garner respect all around, even with my colleagues.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s excellent,” Greg commented happily, “Then let me fly down tomorrow. I have a conference to attend later this weekend in Cardiff and a trip each to Manchester and Liverpool next week. Let me spend a few days in London right now or I won’t be able to make it again until two weeks later.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing,” John said happily and eagerly, “I look forward to your visit. I have made some plans with Sherlock for his birthday and I want to ensure Phil doesn’t cause any trouble or hindrances there. So I devised a clever plan. Along with Sherlock I shall invite him to lunch as well but not just for the meal. I have planned in advance for this and I’ll give him Treatment 222, according to your guidebook. It’s time for him to receive that! He just doesn’t seem to get the message that Sherlock is happy with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, he does seem attached to Sherlock and may not give up easily. John, you also remember I hope that there’s always a chance of retaliation. So cover your arse at all points, don’t give him an opportunity to destroy your carefully built castle because given a chance he shall do so ruthlessly. From what I heard in your texts, he’s getting desperate.”</p><p> </p><p>“So he is. But I will mind my moves and watch my steps and tie all loose ends. Won’t give him a chance to do anything destructive.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Then I shall see you tomorrow at the office. What time?”</p><p> </p><p>“9-30 am please. I reach exactly at that time. Of course I will drop Sherlock to work in the morning, as usual.”</p><p> </p><p>“As usual.”</p><p> </p><p>“See you then tomorrow Greg. I look forward to spending some time with you over the next few days, in London.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes absolutely,” Greg felt rather thrilled too but didn’t let his voice reflect that. Retaining a calm veneer over his words and tone, he further added, “Do introduce me to Sherlock as well. Hope that is okay with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah, absolutely,” John responded in a joyous tone, “What a thing to ask? I wouldn’t have got him had it not been for you and your lessons and advice and sooner or later I would have introduced him to you anyways. He will be pleased to meet you. I shall introduce you as a friend though, if that’s okay.” To that Greg made a request that John would have found strange and a bit suspicion-inducing, but he was in such a happy space and in such an amazingly cheerful state of mind that nothing could break through that haze. “I’ll be in disguise when I meet him John. I am saying this because I don’t wish to be known by face. My work is such that it’s best for me to remain anonymous. You can call me a friend from your college days, that I was a college professor or counselor or something like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Done deal.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Greg had to admit John had performed much better than he had expected. While he knew there were marked changes and improvements in the under-confident, shaky, awkwardly presented young Englishman, he hadn’t expected such a rapid transformation in him.</p><p> </p><p>He got several proofs that John had not only made the best of his lessons but also improvised upon them for better benefits.</p><p> </p><p>When John walked into the office, the receptionist gave him a nod and smile. John stopped and gave her a meaningful look, “Do you have something in your mouth? Were you eating something?” “No, nothing like that Mr. Watson.” “In that case, speak up and wish people ‘good morning’. You are the first face people see when they step in so you need to behave like a brand ambassador for us. Anyone can sit there with a grumpy face and an indifferent body language. You’re here because you can do better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” she was mortified at being reproached but aside from Greg, who was sitting on one of the couches in the waiting area, there was no one else around. John hadn’t humiliated her but corrected her. Good move!</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright. Next time, say ‘Good morning Mr. Watson’, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning Mr. Watson. This gentleman has been waiting for you.”</p><p><br/>“Oh, hello Greg. Thanks. Can you ask the housekeeping attendant on this shift to serve two cups of Cappuccino in my cabin. Come on Greg, this way please.”</p><p> </p><p>They were about to enter John’s cabin when John spotted one of the account managers, a rather rude and smartass character named Neil, happily watching tennis on his smartphone. When John called out to him he dismissively waved his arm, not even responding properly.</p><p> </p><p>Greg gave John a glance and John smiled, nodded and mouthed ‘Watch me’. He walked straight up to Neil’s desk and stood hovering over him like a hawk watching its prey. Unnerved, Neil paused the game and stood up, realizing John meant business. “Neil, what do you usually do when Mike or Charles call you? Don’t you go to their cabin or at least turn and give them proper attention? Don’t you?” When Neil nodded and several of his neighbors in the bullpen stopped their work to watch the proceedings. Clearly that put Neil even more in the corner, where he had trapped himself. John didn’t raise his voice, he simply spoke more emphatically, stressing on all the words. “This is called respect for the individual Neil, this is deserved by everyone working in this office and not only those whom you consider as ‘the bosses’.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes….”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes to what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone deserves respect.”</p><p> </p><p>“And…. I also happen to be one of the bosses. I don’t want you, or anyone else, to forget that for even a moment. Got that?” John was again very balanced and upfront, not uptight or condescending. Greg could see that several others were looking awkward, afraid or trying to avoid eye contact with John. The culprits were getting the right message. Greg was very proud and walked into John’s cabin, letting John wrap this up in his own inimitable way.</p><p> </p><p>The coffee arrived quickly. Later when John walked in, he was smiling from ear to ear. “So,” he asked eagerly, “What is the verdict my guru? Have I done well, is there room for improvement or would you give me a pat on the back?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pat on the back, kudos, applause,” Greg smiled, “You passed with flying colors. This was done exactly the way it should be.”</p><p> </p><p>“He was traveling last week or else he would have been straightened out sooner. I straightened out all the others who used to misbehave, not only with me but with others in the office.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fantastic. So, how is it going with Sherlock? Did you get the car’s money refunded?”</p><p><br/>“Oh yes and bought a new one. Bought a motorcycle too. As for Sherlock, you will meet him today. I am sure I have made some impact there, in the correct direction.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Christmas ghost story anyone?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Fixer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Andersen discovers the secret formula to John's sudden success</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you have to do this?” Sherlock’s words and tone had no parity, he was giggling, his eyes shining with mischief.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, he needs to tone it down and back off,” John said, “People like him don’t do it unless they are given a firm push in the right direction.”</p><p> </p><p>Moments later, the call connected to Phil Andersen and John heard him greet in a rather condescending manner, at first asking ‘John <em>who</em>?’ before he said a bit deliberately ‘Oh, <em>that </em>John’. John didn’t get angry or upset because he knew he was going to have the last laugh. Suppressing a chuckle he said, “Hey listen, it’s Sherlock’s birthday today so I am inviting you for lunch with us. Can you make it to…..” Before he could even finish, Phil as usual started to bully his way into the plans. “Oh yeah for sure, 1 PM at Northern Lights right? That is the best place around our college and Sherlock would love the place. He always accompanies me there. We shall see you at 1 PM, I will bring Sherlock in my car.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bring?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, he will ride me…. I mean ride with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that way. But Northern Lights…. I thought we’ll go to Osaka, a Japanese restaurant. Or maybe the Italian one, Chianti. Sherlock loves Japanese and Italian cuisine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, Northern Lights, 1 PM. He won’t mind at all. I hope you are making the reservations! If they say it’s too late for that please tell them my name and they will immediately agree. I have been such a longstanding and valued patron, I dare them to say no to <em>anything that I ask for</em>,” he said with his usual air of superiority, hijacking the conversation and Sherlock’s birthday plans, as was his habit.</p><p> </p><p><em>Asshole</em>, John thought but maintained the cheerful behavior, “Yeah, will make the reservations. Don’t worry on that front. Just don’t be late, okay? If possible try and make it five minutes before the time we have scheduled.”</p><p> </p><p>He hung up and snickered.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the matter?” Sherlock asked. He was driving John’s car that day, mostly because John had insisted.</p><p> </p><p>“Some people never get the hint nor understand when to back off,” John said with a slight shake of his head, “Once an asshole, always a prized asshole. Never mind. Listen, your pre-lunch classes end at 12-30 PM, right? Just leave the campus right away and come to the art gallery across the street. Yeah, ‘First-Point Art Gallery’. I want you to meet someone there at 12-45 sharp.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who would that be?”</p><p> </p><p>“A good friend of mine, sort of a mentor and guru and like a big brother. Someone I really respect. I want them to be the first of my friends to meet you in person.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Greg was wearing a wig, a fake mustache and beard and even a prosthetic nose. He had changed the color of his eyes with the aid of contact lenses and made himself look a bit bent-over and shorter than his height, as if he was seventy and not forty. He had also bulked up his middle and wore spectacles with clear glasses, completing the transformation from a young suave Parisian sophisticate to a slightly eccentric, chubby, greying septuagenarian. Still, when he saw Sherlock and John enter the gallery, he felt a slight flutter in his stomach. What if Sherlock recognized him?</p><p> </p><p>John had to stop himself from laughing out loud when he saw Greg. The only reason he knew it was Greg was because the man had a green handkerchief sticking out of his front pocket, as he had mentioned as an identifying factor. Otherwise it was impossible to recognize him.</p><p> </p><p>When Greg was introduced to Sherlock, John found that his mentor had changed his voice as well. He didn’t question him though; why would he when the two men seemed to get along so well right from the start. Sherlock seemed chattier than he usually was with strangers while Greg went out of the way to be nicer, more affectionate with Sherlock. After a while John simply walked along with them as they discussed the various paintings and art pieces on display, commenting on some of them and marveling at how they had matching tastes in terms of art.</p><p> </p><p>Half an hour later John had to intervene though. “I think we better get to Northern Lights now. Someone is waiting for us there, remember?” He said to Sherlock.</p><p> </p><p>Greg cleared his throat loudly and meaningfully. “I hope he hasn’t left yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Surely not. He’s calling and texting me constantly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Sherlock said.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you guys better be on your way. I will be there in a little while. I am feeling partial to Russian food this afternoon, not sure why.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come with us.”</p><p><br/>“No Sherlock, it’s your special day so you enjoy with your boyfriend. Some other day bro….. I mean, son. I have someone else with me so we don’t want to crowd your table. But do remember this John, two’s company, even three’s a crowd. So the third person at your table should not be present at least in your evening’s programs. Which reminds me, you do have something planned for the evening as well, right? Movies, a quiet dinner, a long drive?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um no,” Sherlock said a bit sheepishly, “I have taken the second half off so John and I will visit a museum which we both wanted to see. Then perhaps coffee and then I have to be somewhere. My brother has invited me for dinner. I need to be there.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Phillip Andersen was about to implode, almost. Not only had Sherlock let him down by saying he had left the campus already, John had not shown up on time for the lunch appointment either. He was sitting all alone at the table reserved in the name of Sherlock Holmes, fiddling with the bottle of ketchup and drinking endless glasses of lemon and mint infused water. He had drunk so much water in the past thirty odd minutes that he had to visit the men’s room already. Texts and calls had not yielded no results at all because neither man had responded.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly he saw them strolling in together, hand in hand.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the two men sat at the table, almost ignoring him, Phil decided he had had enough of this. Without even giving the couple a chance to settle down, he started firing at them right away, venting out all his frustrations. “What the hell is this man, huh?” He demanded, staring at John, “You tell me to be here a little ahead of time and come in thirty minutes late?! What kind of behavior is this?” He turned towards the other man, “And Sherlock, I had been looking for you and you had left the campus already? Couldn’t you have given me a call or answered one of my calls at least?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Sherlock blinked, as if he hadn’t even heard him properly.</p><p> </p><p>Like a balloon that had been pricked with a needle, Phil deflated. “No, I was saying…..”</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon Phil,” John intervened in the same manner Phil used to do earlier, “It’s his birthday and this is no way to talk to the birthday boy. Don’t be so insensitive now. He had some urgent business to take care of and he called me. So I took him there, that’s all we can tell you man!”</p><p> </p><p>“What? What kind of…..”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s something he told me. He’s not comfortable sharing that with everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone… but then….??”</p><p> </p><p>“Phillip, what are we yapping about? Everyone is hungry,” John said in a patronizing tone, “We should be ordering now. Sherlock, take a look at the menu card and tell me what you’d like to eat. Choose a drink too, you’re not going back to work and neither am I.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, the choice of the dishes lies with me,” Phil thumped his chest, “As always, I know exactly what he likes and which are the signature dishes here. Hey there, Ivan, bring us the famous pitcher of Moscow Blitz. Then ask Dasha in the kitchen to prepare three portions of Chicken a la Kiev for me and my guests, with extra pepper and butter……”</p><p> </p><p>“Dasha no longer works here,” Ivan said dismissively, “We do not make Chicken a la Kiev anymore. As for Moscow Blitz, that’s off the menu today as persimmons are not in season and that cocktail requires the extract of persimmons.”</p><p> </p><p>It took Phil almost thirty seconds to process that information and the shocks that came with it. He really didn’t know any other good dishes here and truth was that he didn’t even know the sous chef Dasha too well. He had just tipped her once, when she was revealed as the chef behind the tasty dish. Ivan and the other waiters indulged him because he was a regular and he was really no connoisseur of Russian cuisine. Once he understood he was on thin ice he stared back at the waiter in stunned silence, as if his whole world had disintegrated around him. For some time he couldn’t say a word. All he could do was open and close his mouth several times, look around self-consciously, smile foolishly at Sherlock and John and then glance once at the kitchen door. Then he turned his eyes back on Ivan, “She-She has left and the cocktail is not available either. How about the borscht and olive and potato salad…….”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually we should go somewhere else,” John said, “How about Japanese cuisine Sherl?”</p><p><br/>“Yeah,” Sherlock was very agreeable to that, “Definitely. That’s a very good idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon let’s go then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>The two of them got up and started walking towards the exit, leaving a totally stunned and baffled Phil behind. He got up on shaky legs and stared one last time at Ivan who grinned and pointed at the exit. “Yes, yes, of course,” he huffed and joined the others there.</p><p> </p><p>“Just get into the car and wait for me there,” John said to Sherlock, “I’ll join you shortly. I saw someone I know in there. I need only two minutes to say hi to them.”</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Sherlock and Phil had left, John quickly gave Ivan a fifty pound note and whispered, “Thanks a lot buddy. You don’t have to put up with that pompous prick anymore. Split the booty with Dasha and thank her from my side. The balance is for a nice Chicken a la Kiev and a glass of Moscow blitz, for the gentleman sitting over there.” He pointed at the corner table where Greg was sitting, in his disguise.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing, thanks,” Ivan was smiling broadly, “Did that gentleman help?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh sure he did, he literally changed my life! Perhaps the best decision I have taken, ever. Also a special thanks to you for that. Appreciate it greatly man! See you later!”</p><p> </p><p>He raised an arm in greeting at the disguised Greg who raised his arm in response and waved back at him, showing him a thumbs up sign. He had clearly observed everything and was pleased with the results, perhaps more than John himself. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The situation didn’t improve for Phil at the Japanese restaurant either. John and Sherlock were lost in their own world and despite trying his best, he couldn’t stick his nose in. In terms of choosing dishes from the elaborate menu, John suggested that each of them choose what they’d like to eat rather than one person ‘assuming’ others should be okay their choice. Phil bristled from that comment but couldn’t argue otherwise. As their meal arrived, he found he had chosen something too spicy and the idea of eating sticky rice with chopsticks had been a bad idea. He dropped food on his lap and drank more than six glasses of water to wash down the spicy dish.</p><p> </p><p>By the time the meal ended, he wished he had not accepted the invite.</p><p> </p><p>Over that week John kept putting him in his place and every single time he was humiliated or snubbed in Sherlock’s presence, Phil got angrier and angrier with John. He completely missed the point that Sherlock was attracted to John and naturally he had no business being a spoilsport and sticking to them like an unnecessary third wheel on a bicycle. He just did what he always did, he blamed someone else for his own inadequacies and idiosyncrasies. It struck him as odd that John suddenly seemed like a society gentleman and a corporate bigwig rather than the silly simpleton that he used to be.</p><p> </p><p>So he started keeping an eye on John and that was how he discovered that every evening John spent time and had dinner with one particular gentleman, a handsome man on the throes of middle age, smartly dressed and just the sort of person someone would look up to. He appeared so confident, sophisticated and charming that Phil wondered if that was the mysterious reason why John was missing for a month.</p><p> </p><p>Was he with this man? Was he being trained? Guided to be something he was naturally not?</p><p> </p><p>One day he followed Greg.</p><p> </p><p>Followed him for almost a mile as the older man stopped at various establishments to buy different things and finally entered a café where someone was waiting for him. It was a lady, at least fifty years old, and the two of them had a long chat over coffee and pastries and she signed a cheque and handed it to him before leaving. Greg noticed Phil around the same time, realizing he was being stalked.</p><p> </p><p>Thereafter he bribed a waiter, made him block Phil’s view and managed to slip out from the side entrance where he flagged down a cab and rode away from there. By the time Phil realized he had been given the slip, Greg was safely in the car and the vehicle had pulled away from that street, giving Phil no option but to find him another day.</p><p> </p><p>As luck would have it, Greg was off to Manchester the next morning so Phil found no opportunity window to track him down. John wasn’t meeting him and Phil didn’t know where Greg lived, so he had no possible way of finding out how to get to that mystery man.</p><p> </p><p>But the next week, as Sherlock continued to avoid him and John continued his roaring affair with Sherlock, the annoyed and disturbed Phillip Andersen became desperate and pulled out all stops to find out who this guardian angel was. After several efforts he found the same woman whom Greg met at the café and from her he found out who Greg was and where he lived. The very next day, Phil left for Paris and went straight to Champs Elysée. Using a different name and an excuse of personal grooming and seeking a life coach for a short period, he visited Greg’s office which was located in a posh building on the famous street. He didn’t get the address where Greg stayed but at least he found out what the man did.</p><p> </p><p>His profession was unique. He was a consultant/advisor/coach for people who needed special types of help. Someone who was perpetually out of favor with seniors at work, someone who was lackluster at romance, someone who simply didn’t know what kind of profession to choose, someone who was deep into tax or legal troubles, someone who had stage fright or claustrophobia, this was the man who was the answer to all their troubles.</p><p> </p><p>He also saw some brochures and remembered an advertisement he had seen years ago on the internet. Adding two and two he tried to form the whole picture.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Phil had an Eureka moment a little later, “This is the man they call…. ‘Fixer’. He fixes several things, by hook or by crook, including relationships and….” He was muttering these words as he walked out and while doing so, he chanced upon a photograph whose frame was being polished by one of the employees.</p><p> </p><p>It was a photograph of Greg with another man.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment Phil thought he had seen the other man somewhere but he couldn’t remember who it was. <em>Never mind</em>, he thought, <em>all I have to do is find out more about the ‘Fixer’. I am sure one of my friends or sources back in England will have some idea. </em></p><p> </p><p>At least he had a lead now.</p><p> </p><p>“John Hamish Watson, now I know who’s the architect of your success,” he said darkly as he sat at the airport that same evening, waiting to take the next available flight to England, Gatwick airport, “I sure hope you have enjoyed your success so far because it’s coming to an end. I am coming back to England and I <em>will take Sherlock back from you</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock receives a rather ominous warning</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You seem very happy.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock put his feet up on the low stool before him, then saw his mummy make a face and quickly put them down. “It’s okay,” she said with a smile, “Go ahead, do that if you want. As long as you don’t put them up on the breakfast or dining table.”</p><p> </p><p>He grinned, saluted her and did so, getting comfortable on his chair by sliding backwards. “So then,” she prompted, mixing the cake batter expertly in the baking bowl, “You were saying something to me?” Sherlock shrugged and said, “Yeah, you are so right. I <em>am happy</em>. But it’s early days yet.” He saw his mother suppressing her chuckle and said, “I mean mummy, you know what I mean don’t you? I will ensure you meet him but only when I am sure this is going somewhere. Right now all I am thinking is that I am happy, I am somehow very happy all the time. He understands me, he watches over me, he cares about me. We have a lot to talk about, we have common interests and hobbies and-and, it’s just…. Wonderful. But then, it’s…. it’s…..!!”</p><p> </p><p>“Early days still?” She finished the sentence for him.</p><p> </p><p>“How long is long enough?”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I have known him a while…. It’s a couple of months, maybe less…..”</p><p> </p><p>“It takes a while to know someone,” she said, putting the batter and the bowl into the oven and giving him a spoonful of it to taste, “But that depends on the people involved and their communication and perception levels. Some people find out in a month, some take a year and still stay in the dark. Only you….” She took the spoon back after he had licked it clean, “…. Can say for sure if it’s time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Time for….. what exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>“To be sure he is the one. To be absolutely certain you can trust him.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock rubbed his nose and she laughed. “What?” He blinked. “You always did that whenever you couldn’t say what you really wanted to say,” she said, “Oh by the way, your daddy and I are trying to push your elder brother to set a date. I wouldn’t be surprised if you beat him to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a bundle of positivity mummy but even you wouldn’t want me to hurry up so.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not about what I would want. It’s about what you want. YOU!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“So,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder after taking off her oven mitts, “Do some introspection. Do not rush. Whenever you are ready, you’ll feel it. Yeah, you will.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” John unveiled his work, which he had finished ahead of the deadline and still done a perfect job at it. There were no flaws, it was sheer magnificence. The artist stood next to it, proud and confident. He had recently found out that these two qualities – pride and confidence or self-esteem tended to be both self-building and self-destructive in nature. If one was proud and brimming with confidence then those qualities simply enhanced themselves within a person, moving to higher levels completely on their own. If one lacked those, it was impossible to create them through external stimuli. People could compliment you until you were dripping with them and you’d still think you are not enough.</p><p> </p><p>In John’s case, Greg had done the unthinkable. He had taught John to build on these two qualities from the inside, allowing the flare to originate within him rather than toss a flame in. Today, more than ever, John felt the ‘transformation’ within himself.</p><p> </p><p>His work was always good and appreciated for being so but earlier he lacked the panache to present it with a stamp of authority. He lacked the ability to look the client in the eye and silently say ‘I dare you to say this could be better’. Today his stance, posture and self-assurance somehow made people notice his work even more than they usually did. The client was super-happy and as a result John’s firm and the artist personally profited more than the contractual obligations they had signed for. While John’s firm got an additional contract for the next six months, John was given a gift by the rich patron. Not just his cut of the whole payment but a ‘gift’ for his work.</p><p> </p><p>“A two nights and three days package at my nephew’s hotel,” he announced, “Royal Retreat, a five star property on the Thames. It’s a small present from my side, for you and your partner. The executive suite is all yours, all meals included and a limo ride to the property and back to your home. All expenses paid, including the bar, pool and spa. Have fun, chill, relax, make the better half happy. Thank you Mr. Watson.”</p><p> </p><p>That was the day when Charles Magnussen congratulated John for the first time in public, announcing that he was an asset to the firm. There was thunderous applause from the clients and the employees alike.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Mike Stamford took him aside later as everyone had dispersed and started having tea/coffee and snacks, “I think a certain brown haired, green eyed, debonair young man might be very happy with this ‘present’.”</p><p> </p><p>John blinked, “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Mike said, lowering his voice, “I met him. He’s great. He’s really good looking and he’s really great. Congratulations! I think you’re all set now.”</p><p> </p><p>All warm and rosy from the kudos he had accumulated, the professional success and the newfound respect he’d acquired, John decided to pay a visit to Greg Lestrade at his loft apartment at a posh neighborhood in Chelsea. He wanted to share his success story with his guru, first and foremost.</p><p> </p><p>When he arrived there he found only Pierre and no signs of Greg. The young Frenchman seemed a bit distracted as he read something on the laptop, leaving John to make his own coffee in the neatly arranged, if small, kitchen. “So where is Greg?” John asked after five minutes, sensing that Pierre was too busy to even give this basic information. Pierre looked up from the laptop, as if miles away, then blinked, “Oh yeah, of course. I should have told you already. He had a day’s work extra there, with a client. The gentleman is a Scottish actor, TV actor. Some income tax and image related issues on social media. So he will be back day after tomorrow, morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll call him…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me, I can call him anytime, right?”</p><p><br/>“Um, no, not really you can’t. He might be meeting the media personnel there, he could be busy with his other client, he might have engagements where a ringing phone could be a distraction or downright nuisance. There are other clients of his too, you know that right?” Pierre spoke in a slightly vexed tone, staring right into John’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>John felt a trifle embarrassed. Pierre had never spoken to him that way and Greg had never made him feel he was just one of the clients, so he had perhaps taken a bit too many liberties. He chastised himself quickly, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed that he’s always free to take my calls.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been working with him a while now,” Pierre said, softening his approach slightly, “If you’re okay maybe I can…. I mean, we can formulate some strategy together. You don’t have to talk to him for anything and everything. You’re on your own now and Mr. Lestrade always had a lot of faith on your judgment.”</p><p> </p><p>John nodded. That part was absolutely correct. So he suspected nothing and happily described his success to Pierre, not noticing that the man listened with contempt more than happiness. Once he had finished, he said, “So that two nights and three days package. I was thinking since it’s been almost a month since my return and things are going well with Sherlock…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Let me show you something,” Pierre said with a click of his fingers, “I have just the thing for you. See here, this video.”</p><p> </p><p>He started a video on his phone and John watched over his shoulder. It was an old video, at least ten years old, because Greg Lestrade looked mighty young in that one. He was speaking, which was the first part, then two actors enacted a scene with Greg’s voice on a narrator mode in the background. John listened and watched carefully.</p><p> </p><p>Three separate clips playing side by side showed a man and a man, a man and a woman and two women smiling, chatting, holding hands, even kissing. Then one of the partners in each clip ushered the other into a romantic and cozy but luxurious setting, a bedroom setting to be precise, with wine and roses, chocolates and caviar, gifts and flickering candles. The intentions were very clear and Greg was talking about how one must carefully notice the way each partner approached the other and slowly led them to bed, put them at ease and slowly make it impossible for them to say no to the obvious next steps that follow. Sex. Yes, clearly each couple was about to have sex for the first time.</p><p> </p><p>Pierre abruptly cut off the clip at that point, leaving a slightly dazed John blinking and giving him a startled look. “Our actors didn’t strip and show porn here,” he said with a wicked grin, “So this is effectively the conclusion of the clip and all that we need to see here. Now, luck has given you an incredible opportunity to enact this moment, with your Sherlock.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean I should take him to the hotel and…..?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not saying that. Greg Lestrade is. You have always followed his advice, so….”</p><p> </p><p>“You know I have my doubts though. Sherlock is very different from the rest. He and I will eventually get intimate but I don’t feel the need to rush things. It may go badly too, just in case he thinks this is all I wanted and all my newfound confidence and charm was just a build-up to getting between his legs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh c’mon John, he’s a guy. We’re men. We are always ready for sex.”</p><p> </p><p>John grinned, “That we are but not all of us wanna force someone…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Then it shouldn’t seem like you’re forcing,” Pierre waggled his brows, “He is thirty now. You’re even older. By now people would have slept with at least three people and been in and out of two relationships. This is regular affair, just as we eat and sleep we make love.”</p><p> </p><p>John smiled a bit uneasily.</p><p> </p><p>“Or are you lapsing into the same simpleton Johnny boy who came to see Mr. Lestrade about two months ago?” Pierre taunted, watching John’s face closely. That worked and the arrow hit home straight away.</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely not,” John said, “That man is gone, finished, fired, banished, buried. This is John version 2.0 and I don’t hesitate like a shrinking violet. If I want, I can get Sherlock tonight. But I am not a man to force or trick anyone. However, this is too good an opportunity to be missed. I am sure Sherlock will be pleased.”</p><p> </p><p>“From what we have observed,” Pierre said, “Mr. Lestrade and I agree. I think it’s about time you take this relationship with Sherlock to the next level. Good luck John. Have fun.”</p><p> </p><p>John said an emphatic ‘Yesss’ and put his hands on his hips, making plans in his head about inviting Sherlock to the suite and giving him the red carpet treatment for three days and two nights. The hotel was a prestigious property, dripping with luxuries, awash in opulence, and such a place was the perfect setting for their first romantic getaway together, their first passion filled night. John had so far imagined himself and Sherlock together, close, intimate, consummating their relationship. He had been patient so far but that didn’t mean he did not harbor desires. Sex was something he had frequently thought about and now that even Lestrade wanted him to take the step, he decided to consummate the relationship. Now that they were firmly committed to each other, it made sense to do so. “Here,” Pierre handed him a book. John gave him a confused look, “What’s this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Famous Hungarian playboy and bestselling author, Előd Toth wrote this book. This was released in the nineties – The Pragmatist and the Adventurous. Very popular with people aged between twenty and sixty. It outlines such methods of seduction on page 240, for married folks as well as single’s. Read it, you will get some tips and tricks to help you along.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for this, I am sure Greg will be proud of me once more,” John said, not noticing the changed countenance of the other man, “In fact I had a gift, a tribute for him. I’ll give it to him once he’s back. Appreciate your help in his absence. What would I have done without you?”</p><p> </p><p>Pierre just nodded and saw him off till the door. As John bounded down the staircase, he whispered, ‘What indeed’ and whipped out his cell phone. When the call connected he snickered and said, “Mission accomplished. It was a piece of cake. He is going to call him there tonight. You can transfer the money right away. I need to get out of here before boss returns.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock do you have a minute?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock made a face and was about to walk past Phil Andersen when the latter planted himself on his path, obstructing him deliberately. “Five minutes only Sherlock,” he said pleadingly, his voice unusually soft and tender, “I am sure you can give me five minutes, for the sake of our friendship, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>His words and tone converted Sherlock and he nodded, agreeing to the short time requested for. “This way please,” Phil put his hand on his back and guided him into an empty classroom, closing the door behind them. “Listen Sherlock, I have some news for you. It won’t make you happy but I think it’s more important for you to be ‘aware’ than ‘happy’ at this moment. John is going to trick you in a manner that you haven’t even thought about so far, something totally beyond your imagination.”</p><p><br/>“That’s enough,” Sherlock was angry, “I am not going to hear a single word about Jawn…..”</p><p> </p><p>He made for the door but Andersen didn’t allow him to leave. He grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t be silly Sherlock. Hear me out, after that it’s your call. You may or may not like me but at least I am on your side, I understand you and will never ask you to do anything you don’t wanna do. If that was my intention, the past two years would have been enough for me to lure you into bed like the proverbial cheating pricks that you see nowadays. Fuck and forget. While some men don’t mind that, at the end of the day I don’t see you as one of them, I know you’re not someone that shares his body with just about anyone. John has planned all this you know, first acting like a lamb and realizing that’s not gonna work with you because you’re naturally shy. Then he suddenly turned into a playboy, a typical Casanova. His next move will be…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Why should I believe you?” Sherlock countered, “You could simply be trying to put me off.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Don’t believe</em>,” Phil said, “Find it out for yourself. I know what’s planned. He got this idea after reading an infamous book from the 90’s, about getting between a male or a female’s legs.”</p><p> </p><p>“What???”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. He doesn’t have a huge penthouse apartment or a seaside isolated villa so he will choose the third option, he will book a hotel room or suite where he’ll call you. The waiter will spill champagne on your trousers and shirt on purpose so he will ask you to don a robe. By the time you come out of the bathroom with the robe on, strawberries and champagne would be ready and waiting, both laced with drugs. You’ll become woozy and he will have his way with you. You see, he will be smoking your brand of cigarettes……”</p><p> </p><p>“John does not smoke.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tonight he will. And he will have the bed all ready with flowers, candles around it, sex toys and lube, everything needed for a hot night. You may even find a handcuff or……”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s enough, please shut up now,” Sherlock pushed past him, feeling queasy in the stomach. Would John really do something like that? “I am sure if I say ‘no’, John will back off. He is the roses and champagne, ring and dinner date kinda man. Not a man-whore.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil burst out laughing and said, “It was my duty to warn you. Now whatever happens, I just hope he doesn’t break your heart too bad. From what I know, after tonight you’ll be discarded.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This series I shall try and finish as soon as I can but for now it's slowed down as I am writing some Christmas themed stories. One will be posted my time tonight, hopefully. Sure hope you'd like that as much as this one, if not more! Cheers!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The best laid trap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock plays along as John unknowingly digs the grave of their relationship</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock was quite disturbed that day, so much so that he couldn’t concentrate on his work or the questions thrown at him by his students. He told them he wasn’t too well and would take an extra class the following Monday and give them the answers they needed. A couple of girls flirted with him in the hallway. On any other day he would have rebuked them. That day he just walked away from them, distracted and unbothered.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright Sherlock?” Mrs. Chakraborty asked in the staff room.</p><p><br/>“Yeah, just fine,” Sherlock lied, knowing he was far from fine. He couldn’t concentrate on anything nor focus on any conversation going on. Even when his elder brother Mycroft called to inform him that he wanted to meet Sherlock’s new boyfriend the next day, along with his own boyfriend, have a cozy <em>dinner for four</em> at a nice restaurant that served French cuisine, Sherlock barely managed to grasp the message and hurriedly said a ‘Yes of course, text the name of the restaurant’ and hung up. John had a client commitment that morning so they hadn’t met. John’s car was with Sherlock, so he knew sooner or later the man would meet him and take the car keys. <em>Would he really make that proposition to me as Phil said….. should I believe Phil…. No, no, Jawn isn’t like that.</em></p><p> </p><p>His phone vibrated and he got a jolt. John was calling.</p><p> </p><p>He quickly went to a secluded place, a room next to the library. It was a sort of a storeroom and not many people came in here.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi Jawn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sherl baby, how are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good.”</p><p> </p><p>“The client was very happy. Our company got an extended contract. They want to build a Lego world on their property and also want us to construct a swimming pond and surroundings for them. Rich people, the payment will be fifty percent in advance.”</p><p><br/>“Excellent. Congratulations.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking….. we should celebrate. I got a fat fee and also something else. Hey listen, it’s a Friday today so tomorrow and day after, do you have to go somewhere or meet anyone?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What’s he getting at? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“No, nowhere to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have booked a suite for us at the Royal Retreat and their famous restaurant Badeaux’s will serve is a five course meal which would leave the most experienced gourmand reeling with gastronomical delight!!! We can celebrate my success and of course our relationship in mind-blowing luxury this evening. How about I send you a limousine around six and you get driven to the property? Like a prince!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh no……</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Actually Mycroft was inviting us for lunch the next day and of late I have eaten out so much that I…..” Sherlock began meekly, trying out half-hearted attempts to refuse this and spare John the blushes later, because he <em>really wanted</em> John to prove himself to be an honest, sincere man who had integrity and truth as his support, not deceit. But John seemed literally hell-bent to carry on with this plan so when he dismissively suggested that ‘they could attend Mycroft’s lunch irrespective of tonight’s plans’, Sherlock felt himself slowly resigning to the fact that Phil might be right this one time. Still, he made one final attempt. “Why don’t you come over to my place instead. Mrs. Hudson would cook us a fine meal. Why spend a bomb on an overpriced hotel no matter how good they are?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, don’t worry about money please. It’s no problem at all. I had planned this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Planned?”</p><p> </p><p>“Financial planning baby. I won’t go broke for this or even if we do this several times.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh, <em>several times</em>! <em>Planned </em>this. Oh dear!</p><p> </p><p>“Can we do this tomorrow instead?”</p><p> </p><p>John sounded a bit impatient this time. “Are you not well or something? If that’s the case then I shall have to cancel this. See, even if it’s something mild or moderate, like a flu or something, I am here to look after you. Trust me, you will enjoy this evening, more than you anticipate.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock felt a sense of dread spread inside him. For a moment he thought he’d ask John straight up about his intentions but that would only warn him in advance and he could back off for now, only to try again. He wanted to see John’s heart, he wanted to see his values, he wanted to see if John truly cared about him and was the same man he came across as. Good, I will lead him on and let’s see where we go from there.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing,” he relented finally, “I’ll be there.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my boy. I’ll send the limo at six, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well then.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When Greg came back to his loft apartment that evening, a day in advance because his work had got over quicker than he thought, he was surprised to find Pierre still there. The man had been fired earlier that week. “What’s the matter?” He asked politely but sternly, “Didn’t you find suitable accommodation at a hotel?”</p><p> </p><p>Pierre was equally stunned to see him back so soon. “N-No, I got accommodation…. I was just leaving now.”</p><p> </p><p>He left in a strange flurry of limbs and motions, as if he was afraid of being caught for something. Greg was a master at spotting such anomalies in a person’s body language and behavior so he caught on immediately. Pierre had been caught red-handed a few days ago for misappropriating some of Greg’s funds in a steady and regular manner for almost a year. He had embezzled almost fifty five thousand euros. While he could return around twenty and his last salary of ten thousand had been stopped, the rest was still a loss for Greg. Not that it would cripple him financially because he was very well-off, but a betrayal was a betrayal and he had strictly instructed his secretary to never show his face again to him, nor try to contact him.</p><p> </p><p>He was supposed to have left at least three days ago. He had been given permission to stay two more days, just because Greg took pity on him and didn’t want to turn him out on the streets. “No, I shouldn’t have allowed him to stay back,” Greg muttered to himself, “He must have done something. I am sure that’s not good….. Jason, hey Jason, are you there?”</p><p> </p><p>The man who served as his cook, housekeeper and the caretaker of this property when he wasn’t around, was Jason Michael, a Welshman whom he trusted. As soon as Jason appeared, Greg asked, “In my absence did anyone come to see me? Did Pierre call anyone?”</p><p> </p><p>“No sir,” Jason said, “I had done your bidding and ensured everyone you expected during this time was given the message that you were away and could be contacted only over the weekend. But today afternoon a young blond man walked in, without appointment. His name was, I don’t remember it clearly, his name was…..”</p><p><br/>“John Watson?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, John. He came to see you but Pierre spoke to him for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear me, dear God, no. Any idea what was said?”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t hear it all. Just that he said…. I remember some hotel being mentioned and him saying to John, ‘We can formulate a strategy together’ and then he showed him a video clip, then gave him a book from your collection. Then again some hotel suite was mentioned, that’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg had a real bad feeling about this and rushed to his bookshelf.</p><p> </p><p>“I should have asked him to leave that very night,” he rued as he studied the titles of the books. The cunning man had arranged the books in such a way that it wasn’t the case of a small conspicuous gap between the other books. Then he could have identified the missing item in a matter of seconds.</p><p> </p><p>He called John on his cell phone while he did his search. The phone kept ringing and no one answered the call. “Oh damn it John, answer the call tonight for Christ’s sake,” he shouted in a frustrated manner, “You really need to change your plans tonight.” The call went straight to John’s voice mail.</p><p> </p><p>It took him only ten minutes to find what was missing from there. He had these books catalogued every year and he also had a fantastic memory of what he kept overall, so he didn’t miss the fact that it was only the Hungarian author’s book, one which he abhorred and completely disagreed with, which was missing from the shelves. A horrible feeling welled up within him as he put two and two together. <em>Hotel, suite, that book, Pierre talking to John, strategy together, oh no! He would have done something out of spite or just because he wants to upset my plans. But it’s John who will pay the price. If he makes the mistake of tricking Sherlock then Sherlock will never forgive him. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Get my car out,” he said to Jason.</p><p> </p><p>“Right now sir?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I have to go to the hotel…. I will find out which one it is but I have to go there physically to do damage control.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right away sir.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg looked at a number on his phone, debating whether or not he should call there. After a grand total of thirty seconds his thumb automatically hit the ‘call’ button. The phone rang only thrice before it was answered. A smooth and polished voice answered him, “Hello. You are back already? Can we do dinner tonight then?”</p><p> </p><p>“We sure can. But before that there’s something you need to do.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>John was waiting for Sherlock at the portico.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Sherlock got out of the limo, John strode up to him and offered him a hand, “Come on, the executive suite on the top floor awaits us.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock smiled nervously. He pretended to be happy and relaxed but inside he was far from so. He swallowed repeatedly, trying to lick his lips to prevent the dry syndrome there, but it seemed like he had no spit at all. everything Phil had told him was slowly coming true. It was unfolding before his eyes like a nightmare that was too dreadful for words. For him honesty, noble intentions, compassion and empathy and being true to his mate was more important than anything else, success and money included. If a man had no values, if he didn’t care about how the others felt, then no amount of money or professional laurels could redeem him.</p><p> </p><p>“All for you, only you,” John said with a flourish of both arms as he ushered Sherlock out of the elevators and into the super-luxury marble foyer. There were mirrors and expensive teakwood paneling, parquet and Italian tile finishing everywhere.</p><p> </p><p>“This floor only has six suites,” John said proudly as he led Sherlock towards the designated door, “Three presidential and three executive. Ours is the executive suite. A bedroom, a huge bathroom and a separate dressing area, a sitting area and a small secluded area with a work desk, a sit-out area with a wide balcony beyond it. There’s also a small dining area with a baby grand piano and an impressive bar right next to it. You can hire your own musician while you eat a romantic meal, served by a personal attendant who will whip up cocktails for you on demand. The bathroom has a sunken tub, it’s big enough to hold four. The bed however is the crowning glory, it’s huge and the mattress is super-soft, it’s one of those modern creations that has a breakfast table and a 60 inch TV screen emerging from the foot-side or the nightstand, all of these automated!”</p><p> </p><p>“This must have cost you a bomb,” Sherlock murmured, noticing that a waiter was standing there, ready to take the next steps. Oh Jawn why, why did you have to do all this? Did you brag to Phil about it? Was Phil right all along in saying I was wrong and naïve to trust you?</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, don’t bother about it,” John said putting his hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. Sherlock stiffened immediately. The next step would be obviously more intimate, John would let the hand linger down till he touched him on the butt and gave one of the cheeks a squeeze.</p><p> </p><p>John was also thinking the same thing. He had to let his hand linger downwards and grasp and squeeze Sherlock’s firm buttock, but only after pausing for a moment and taking a good look into his green eyes, gauging the urgency there.</p><p> </p><p>For some reason he could do neither.</p><p> </p><p>Cursing himself for chickening out, he quickly led Sherlock into the bedroom which was actually fifty percent of the two hundred square meter suite. It was sheer ostentation everywhere, all cream and gold and hints of rich dark brown here and there.</p><p> </p><p>One could easily be transported into another era if one lived in a room like this.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock laughed a bit nervously, trying to talk so his knees didn’t buckle or he didn’t end up hyperventilating. “Imagine how big the presidential suites would be! If the executive suites are this huge, those must be ginormous. Right Jawn?”</p><p> </p><p>“Two bedrooms in those, about five hundred square meters,” John said, also breathing a bit heavily because he was a little nervous as well. John be careful, what if Sherlock doesn’t really want this so soon? What if you’re not reading his signals well? <em>Oh no, what rubbish! Of course he is absolutely fine with this otherwise he wouldn’t have come here at all, would he? </em></p><p> </p><p>An awkward silence followed as Sherlock stood in silence and so did John, neither man knowing what to do. John had every reason to initiate the next step, which was to touch Sherlock, look into his gorgeous eyes and give him an indication of what was to follow, then close the door gently and give the waiter a subtle hint to leave them in peace for the next two hours. But whenever he tried something stopped him; whether it was his middle class values or his natural inclination towards giving his partner the space and time to be ready for intimacy, but he was simply unable to coerce or even coax Sherlock into doing something. Finally, out of sheer need to say something, he quipped, “There’s champagne and strawberries and some really nice French cheese. Do you want to go to the sitting room?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sure,” Sherlock said with a bland smile. <em>Champagne, wine, some drink, will be spilled on me. I’ll have to get rid of my clothes. Please Jawn, don’t do this. We will get there but only when the time is right and not because you think you can trick me into this or do this like a glorified step towards your self-actualization. Please don’t boost your ego at my expense. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me, you said something?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock realized he had muttered a few of those thoughts in his head. “No, nothing,” he replied briefly.</p><p> </p><p>“Come, let’s have some champagne then. The best in town is waiting or us to uncork and start the party!”</p><p> </p><p>The problem was – <em>John had never uncorked a bottle of champagne</em>. That was precisely what a scorpion like Phil had banked upon and that’s how he had managed to bribe a greedy waiter and asked him to do the honors, spilling some on Sherlock so John got a chance to take the next step. That would mean Sherlock would definitely misunderstand John.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir,” the waiter said as soon as they had taken their seats on the same couch, John moving closer to Sherlock and resting a hand on his knee. Sherlock wouldn’t have thought much about this before but today everything seemed odd and unpleasant. He shifted away slightly.</p><p><br/>“Yeah, sure,” John said, feeling a bit rejected by Sherlock’s move. He half regretted what he had done while imagining how much sillier he would look if he couldn’t handle the champagne bottle. He smiled uneasily and stepped right into Phillip Andersen’s trap. “Please do.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. I love you” begins by I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Shit, what must you think of me right now…..” he muttered, pulling at his own hairs in absolute and utter anguish.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The waiter had been waiting for this. He uncorked it and using the brief moment when both men got a start due to the sudden popping sound, he pitched forward slightly as if he had lost balance and the bottle had slipped partially from his unsteady hands as the moisture on the surface played truant. A stream of the foamy liquid landed on Sherlock’s shirt sleeve, torso and his lap, making him yelp a bit too loudly. Not only was the dousing unpleasant but the shock value of realizing John was doing exactly what Phil had predicted added to the anxiety and sadness of the young man.</p><p> </p><p>John was blissfully unaware of the dirty tricks Phil had employed, through Pierre or this waiter, so spoke with genuine concern. “You okay Sherlock? What are you doing?” He turned to the waiter, “How can you be so careless? This is your day to day job, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock was staring at John in complete bewilderment. <em>Really Jawn, really? You couldn’t ask me like a real man? You had to resort to cheap tricks, you had to pay off a stranger to trap me into a situation where I can’t help myself? Is that all you thought about me?</em> “I am very sorry sir, the bottle slipped out of my hands because of the moisture on the outer surface,,” the waiter was very contrite as he addressed John with regret and remorse in his voice, <em>playing his part</em> very well, “May I get the bathrobe for you sir,” he pleaded with Sherlock, “Forgive me sir, I am very sorry for this. I shall get your suit dry cleaned. The two hours service for our special guests, absolutely free of cost. If you just give me your clothes right now I promise shall return them to you by the time dinner is over.”</p><p> </p><p>If we have come all this way, let’s see if Jawn takes the ultimate step or not. With that thought, Sherlock smiled a bit balefully and rose to his feet. “Yes sure, I shall go and change. I’ll hand over my clothes to you in five minutes. Please make sure there are no stains on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir, very well sir.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock went towards the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. It took him about five minutes to disrobe, put on the fluffy robe they provided the guests with and take a few deep breaths to compose himself. Then he quietly stepped out, expecting the waiter there but instead he almost ran into John.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Hey….”</p><p> </p><p>“Sherl, I am…..”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock stood expectantly at the bathroom door, one hand still clutching at the doorknob. “Where’s the waiter?”</p><p> </p><p>“I sent him away.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Great, so you ensured you have complete privacy and get to the basics right away</em>. “He was going to launder my suit,” he said. It was more a statement than a question. He wanted to see which way this was going.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I have another suit for you,” John said, scratching the back of his head. It was a hard habit to kick, especially when one was truly sheepish and lost, when one was back to being the unsure young man who wanted to impress his mate but didn’t know how.</p><p> </p><p>John pointed to not one but two different suits laid out on the bed. One was charcoal grey in color, a tuxedo complete with a bow-tie, with a proper broad belt and sash. The slacks beneath were narrow and entirely formal in their cut and fall. The other was a light green blazer with a semi-formal thick cream shirt and pair of off-white comfort fit trousers made of fine silk and wool blend. There was also a small velvet box between them, as was a single long stemmed rose and a box of expensive Belgian Pralines, Sherlock’s favorite. “Of course these clothes can be laundered too,” John said timidly, feeling as if he should apologize for something, “I can ask them to take it but maybe later….. I sensed your embarrassment and didn’t want the clumsy waiter to hang around. I have a laundry bag with me, just put the things in it and we’ll leave it at the door…..”</p><p> </p><p>He paused and noted a significant change in Sherlock’s demeanor. Earlier the man was lost, quiet, uncomfortable. Now he seemed to be coming back to his cheerful elements. His body language suddenly seemed more relaxed, open and friendlier.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when several realizations struck him like a sword. One-two-three….</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock had sensed what John was planning/thinking to do and had played along, even though he was not comfortable with that. He could have refused but he didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>John had gone against his own philosophy of being original, authentic and sticking to one’s own values. How did he think he could be someone else? Didn’t Sherlock like him, the smarter and surer version of him? Then how did he think acting like a lascivious, selfish fool was better?</p><p> </p><p>That was why he couldn’t look into Sherlock’s eyes. He just couldn’t. How could he when he was not being honest with himself, much less being honest with the man he loved?!</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me,” he said and literally ran out of the room, going straight on to the wide cantilever balcony where he almost broke down. He cursed and berated himself for the stupidity he was about to display and thanked his guardian angels for stopping him at the nick of time. Something had told him to take a step back the moment the waiter spilled champagne on Sherlock and the latter was advised to remove his clothes.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, what must you think of me right now…..” he muttered, pulling at his own hairs in absolute and utter anguish.</p><p> </p><p>“That you chose to remain an honest, good man after all.”</p><p> </p><p>“SHERLOCK!!!”</p><p> </p><p>John wished he wasn’t a coward and could jump straight from that balcony, plunge headlong into the cemented compound and the stone wall beneath which formed the boundary of the luxury property. Courage failing, he wished he could become invisible or for time to reverse and present with another opportunity to prove himself to Sherlock again. He had not only disappointed the other man, he had also taken a sharp fall in his own eyes. This was not him. He was no conman or manipulator. How the hell did he think it was okay to do this? “I-I am sorry Sherlock but I think it’s best if I ask the limo driver to drop you back to your place,” John whispered, shaking his head, “I am sure you’re upset and I don’t blame you at all. Anyone else in your place would have just…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Jawn, stop. I am not…..”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t even ask for forgiveness. How can I when I have been such an asshole?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jawn will you stop rambling and just listen to me???”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock had to be a little loud and since he had never been so before, John had to pause and hear him out. “I said,” Sherlock smiled, reassuring him with his eyes, “It’s okay. I am not upset or annoyed or disgusted, though technically I could have been so at the beginning. But I always had a feeling that you were not that kind of a man. I was sure you couldn’t do something that isn’t your true nature and I understood you had your doubts that the very moment I saw those gifts on the bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Someone talked me into….. no, it was my fault. No one can talk someone else into things.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like the fact that you own your near-mistake. Don’t try that with me again.”</p><p> </p><p>“You-You’re really not angry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope. On the other hand, I would be if you didn’t…..”</p><p> </p><p>John blinked, “Didn’t what….. Sherl?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Do I have to say it aloud? Alright then, I shall say it aloud. I’d really be disappointed if you asked me to go and not…. Use those things you kept on the nightstand. Just don’t use the blindfold, I am not ready for that yet.”</p><p> </p><p>For a few moments John had a comical expression of shock and bewilderment on his face. When he realized he was forgiven and all was well he relaxed visibly and when it dawned on him a moment later that Sherlock himself wanted to willingly take the next step, a huge grin broke through his visage. He let out a chuckle, shook his head with a relieved smiling before lunging at Sherlock and picking him up in his arms. “Ohh,” Sherlock clutched at his arm, surprised by how easily John lifted him off the ground and didn’t even break into a sweat, “I didn’t know…. You are so strong!!”</p><p> </p><p>“More to come from there,” John said mischievously and headed straight for the bedroom with Sherlock in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>John had proved himself at every step. Sherlock lay on his back, pleasure tingling all over his body from the tips of his toes to the back of his head, the lower regions of his abdomen and loins to the long expanse of his arms. He was on flames, literally, after John had successfully ignited every nerve end of his body as if he was just a pile of dry hay crackling and burning with fiery passion. Everywhere the blond man touched or kissed him, it left a hot blitzing trail that made heat pool in his groin. He was hard as a rock and leaking like a tap, any longer than this and he would cum from mere foreplay alone.</p><p> </p><p>“Touch me,” John guided his shaking hands down his body, to the thick long manhood that was pointing upwards and throbbing with heated need, “Want this inside you?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock heard himself make a noise that could be both an expression of admiration and awe of John’s size as well as an impatient need for John to penetrate him with that super-thick rod, make him feel so full that he’d never forget that moment in his life. His first time, that too with his Jawn, it couldn’t get any better! “I take that as a yes,” John fortunately got the hint without him saying anything further. He positioned the blunt head of his cock at Sherlock’s well-prepared opening and probed the entrance with three fingers first. Sherlock moaned and pushed back on the digits.</p><p> </p><p>“Just breathe through this baby and if you want me to stop or pause, all you have to do is ask. I won’t hurt you, I promise that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I know you won…. Won’t. Just do it Jawn!”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you Sherl.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock’s legs were in the air as he felt the first thrust inside him. They immediately dropped down and wrapped around John, lest he slipped out, lest he moved away. It felt so good, despite the almost painful stretch of the muscles down there, that he couldn’t imagine John stopping now. “D-Don’t stop,” he blabbed, “Feels so good…. I am….. I like it…..” He stopped, embarrassed at how that sounded.</p><p> </p><p>“I like it too,” John kissed his brow tenderly, “But I can’t do it soft baby. I need to do it hard.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock merely nodded.</p><p> </p><p>John pushed in harder, picked up speed, thrust faster and faster. All through he kept his eyes on Sherlock’s face to watch his expressions, if even a tiny hint of discomfiture showed up he would hold still. But all John saw there was bliss, sheer and utter bliss and a desire for more, still more. Overwhelmed by Sherlock’s responsiveness and amazing sensuality, he allowed the feelings building inside him to reach a crescendo.</p><p> </p><p>Before cumming he dutifully warned Sherlock that he was dangerously close to the edge. After this there was no turning back, no slowing down. He could feel a slow and sweet ache build in his balls, he could feel the cum build, his cock was beginning to grow impossibly hard and rigid, he could sense his body was tensing up for that ultimate moment as his mind went on a mad spiral of sensations. He reached down and grabbed Sherlock’s cock, giving it a few steady and hard tugs. Instantly he felt tightening of the sheath around him and wetness on his fingers, indicating Sherlock’s impending climax. “Baby,” he rasped out, totally breathless by now, “I can’t hold on much….. fuck,” he scrunched his eyes shut for a moment, “…. Much longer. You there…. There yet Sherl???”</p><p> </p><p>As an answer he felt cum spurt out between his bodies, over his fingers, a stray shot hitting Sherlock’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you’re cumming….”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock let out a screech that sounded suspiciously like John’s name before he shuddered so hard John almost got thrown out. He grabbed the base of his dick and shoved it back inside, thrusting madly as he chased his climax.</p><p> </p><p>When the moment arrived and washed over him like a tsunamic wave, John temporarily forgot everything he had learned and known in this world. Clutching at the spasming body of his lover, their souls truly soaring and merging as one entity, their spirits joyous and somewhere up and beyond the clouds, he let himself get carried away by the amazing sensation of cumming inside the man he so loved!</p><p> </p><p>With a few grunts he emptied his balls inside Sherlock, the aftershocks hitting him one after the other, until he was almost sure he would lose consciousness. He held on though, but only by a sliver of a thread.</p><p> </p><p>His lips found the warm and throbbing Adam’s apple of his lover and he playfully kissed and suckled on it. His hands came up the smooth skin of his lover, fingertips gently caressing the bare spots as well as those with fine hairs on it, finally resting on the peachy nubs on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>His handsome, gorgeous lover. Spent, supine, surrendered unconditionally to him, now laughing…..</p><p> </p><p>…. Yes, laughing!</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the matter?” He asked, but that infectious laughter had made him start smiling as well, “What’s so funny huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“The way you…..” Sherlock’s entire frame was shaking with the effort of controlling his laughter, his breath coming in hitches and short bursts. “Yeah, what about what?” John asked, gently raising himself on his arms and staring down at the giggling man. Sherlock’s upper body was still flushed from their lovemaking and partly because of the laughter that bubbled through him, “Oh God, that was really so funny the way you said….” And again he burst out into a fit of chuckles. John smacked him on the side and sat up, feigning anger. “Sherlock fucking Holmes, you tell me what’s on your mind right now or I might have to spank you, put you on my knees and spank you silly…..”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock’s eyes widened and John felt warm behind his ears. <em>Oh shit, that sounded so horny and kinky. Did he actually say that???</em></p><p> </p><p>“The way you said ‘oh you’re cumming’ at that moment…. It was such a matter of fact statement that now…. In posterity, it just rings so funny,” Sherlock whispered, eyes twinkling with laughter, his voice ringing with naughtiness and mirth. It was that moment when John realized he had indeed got his man, secured his trust and built a lasting bond between them. The fact that Sherlock was in such good spirits after their first time, laughing merrily as a child and completely at ease in his arms – <em>that certainly said something</em>!</p><p> </p><p>“Darling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hehehe…. Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you like the suits?”</p><p><br/>“Yeah, very much! I want a black one too, semi-formal, single button casual blazer for regular use. With a purple shirt. You like purple on me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like all colors on you Sherl but yeah, purple seems to be the best one, the sexiest one. We’ll go to the shop that specializes in bespoke suits for gentlemen and get one stitched, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Sherlock snuggled into his arms, “Um… Jawn?”</p><p> </p><p>John was smiling for no reason. He couldn’t hide his teeth, not even for a moment, even though he realized he looked pretty goofy right now. But what could he do? He was just very happy at the way he had stopped himself at the nick of time from messing it all up and how he had eventually got the ‘prize’. “Yes baby?” He asked, stroking Sherlock’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>“There was a small ring-box too. Did you buy a ring for me as well?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Source (Quote) <br/>I love you” begins by I, but it ends up by you. ― Charles de Leusse</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. A new cycle begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(Mostly) Happily Ever After</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Phil Andersen reached the hotel and found the waiter, Jerry, waiting for him in the foyer and showing him the thumbs up sign, he was sure the battle had been won. He had successfully broken up John and Sherlock’s fledgling relationship and now he’d step into the scene like a knight in shining armor and whisk off his Sherlock into the sunset.</p><p> </p><p>“He should be storming out any moment now,” Jerry said as he was given a few currency notes by Phil, “You should have seen his face. He looked absolutely mortified and terrified and the blond one was totally zapped too. He didn’t know how to handle the situation.”</p><p> </p><p><em>I can almost imagine him, the blundering countryman who tried to take on a clever city boy, a street smart salesman like me! Huh! He was destined to lose anyways</em>. “He is just a rookie in this field,” Andersen snorted, “The writing was on the wall and he refused to look at it. Idiot had no idea who and what he took on. Now he will pay. He will remember this defeat for the rest of his life. Thanks, is your shift over? Oh it is, good, now off you go and let me handle the rest.” He patted the man on the back and made his way upstairs, using the key card given to him for an ‘additional fee’. When he reached the designated floor and walked out, huge grin on his face, he saw two men right outside one of the suite doors. At once his good mood, smile and spirits faded and crumbled into dust.</p><p> </p><p>Gregory Lestrade and-and-and who was this? The other man was none other than Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s elder brother and a barrister. He had come to the college once and Sherlock had introduced him to his colleagues. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?” He demanded loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft was the first one to react, “Aren’t you one of the salesmen in the same institution Sherlock teaches in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Head of sales sir, I had met you. Phillip Andersen.”</p><p> </p><p>“So then <em>what are you doing here</em> Phillip?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil had no clue how to respond to that. He hated being on the backfoot but that was exactly what he was on right now. He opened his mouth to say something but Greg Lestrade beat him to it. “He is here hoping to give a sobbing Sherlock his shoulder to lean on. Oh God, the number of such macho insufferable homosexual men who completely feminize their male partners!!! Even if Sherlock is in trouble he can handle himself, he hardly needs you for support Andersen.”</p><p> </p><p>Phillip was not just annoyed but also insulted. “D-Don’t listen to him Mr. Holmes,” he turned towards Mycroft, “He’s the one who gets paid to help people manipulate and con other people, especially innocents like Sherlock. The man who took Sherlock inside wants nothing but sex from him, he has probably drugged him and had his way already or maybe Sherlock has already stormed away from here, in complete shock and grief. Such people deserve to be jailed. They make a living out of other people’s misery and weaknesses, they are….. why are you smiling?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am smiling because you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mycroft said with a rather amused expression, “I suggest you stop that rant right away because you clearly don’t know you’re treading on thin ice. This man, Mr. Gregory Lestrade, happens to be my boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil appeared so comically taken aback that Greg laughed out loud despite his best efforts to rein in his laughter. Mycroft was a natural poker face, his profession having taught and conditioned him to keep his emotions in check. Still, he grinned slightly and raised his brows as he repeated the statement with more emphasis, “Make that, my longstanding boyfriend.” Phil staggered backwards a few steps, as if those words had hit him like a club. For the longest time he could not say a single word, completely dumbfounded and totally screwed by his own arrogance and conniving ways. Though he didn’t feel sorry for this man, Greg decided to at least put an end to his misery and confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, you have not gone raving mad yet. In your place I’d be taken aback too.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil made a noise at the back of his throat but couldn’t get the words out yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Greg and I have been together for five years, known each other for ten,” Mycroft explained.</p><p> </p><p>“A while ago we went in there,” Greg pointed his thumb at the closed door to the suite, “Thinking the same as you, that we’d find two warring people there and a heartbroken Sherlock and John with a broken nose. Instead guess what we found? We found two people in love, two people who are in perfect harmony with each other’s thoughts and vibes and there’s no idiot in this world who can pull them apart.” He gave Phil a meaningful glance and began to explain exactly what had happened.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thirty minutes earlier</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“John, Sherlock, please, open up, please,” Greg hammered the door while Mycroft kept trying his brother’s phone number constantly from his phone. It brought one of the occupants of the neighboring suite out and the two men quickly toned down the noise and said a hurried ‘sorry’.</p><p> </p><p>The other guest seemed amiable and said, ‘That’s okay, if you’re not the police and there hasn’t been a felony then never mind’ before heading back inside. A split second later the door to the suite opened and there stood Sherlock, dressed in just a robe and a huge goofy grin on his boyish handsome face. John appeared moments later, dressed in just a towel around his hips. It was evident that both men had just taken a bath and had to leave it in a hurry to answer the door quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Myc, Greg, what are you both doing here?” Sherlock blushed deeply and hid behind the door, finger combing his hairs self-consciously, “Um…. This is John, my boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>John smiled sheepishly, suddenly finding himself right in the middle of things. Then it occurred to him that Greg Lestrade was here, in the company of a man who seemed to be Sherlock’s brother. He remembered seeing him for a brief while two or three months earlier, in front of Sherlock’s house. But, how were these two together?</p><p> </p><p>He turned towards Sherlock for an explanation while Mycroft was his usual reticent self and only made a cryptic comment, ‘If my brother was upset I’d have flattened your face but since he’s happy, hello John’. John lamely shook his hand and turned to an amused Greg for an explanation and the latter quickly stepped inside and closed the door, guffawing at the whole situation. Now that he was assured there was no damage or misunderstanding between his protégé and his soon to be brother in law, he could relax, breathe easy and throw some light on the whole matter. “Sit down, all of you,” he ordered gently, “Allow me to explain a few things here. Myc, you know it all because I filled you in during our ride here. But maybe you’d still like to listen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay then.”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone took their seats, Sherlock and John on the same couch and Mycroft on a single seater. Greg perched on an ottoman and began his story.</p><p> </p><p>“John, I happen to be Sherlock’s brother in law. Yes, his elder sibling Myc and I are not married but we have been a couple for almost five years. I have known the Holmes family for a decade now and seen Sherlock back in his college days. The reason why I took some extra interest in your case is because you mentioned Sherlock’s name. My mother in law, my boyfriend and even I had been worried about him because he just didn’t seem to find a partner or even a date. He was so shy and always the typical workaholic, so we kept pushing him to socialize more, find someone special. When I met you I knew he couldn’t have made a better choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then-then why didn’t you tell me?” John was flabbergasted.</p><p> </p><p>“If I had, would you have put in the effort to become the man he needs, to be the person you are today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually…. No. I would have fled.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you have your answer. Now, here is the money back. The same sum I took from you.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock grabbed John’s hand, “You were in my brother in law’s grooming and social engagement classes? That’s why you were missing for a month?”</p><p> </p><p>John scratched the back of his head sheepishly but the moment he saw Greg roll his eyes he quickly lowered it and muttered ‘sorry’. Sherlock looked at his brother, “I wanted to tell you and introduce him to mummy and daddy too. In fact I gave a few hints to mummy earlier this week and I had planned to come over with him for lunch with you tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s true,” Mycroft said in John’s direction, “He did tell me that he was bringing a guest, that he <em>might bring a guest with him</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg seemed pleased with how things were going. He gave John a small nod and a silent indication that he could speak freely about exactly how they had trained, groomed and guided him. “Yes I was in Paris with Greg,” John confessed, “That’s why I had disappeared for a month. I have to admit that those lessons from him, the tips and clues, the polishing and grooming he gave me helped me discover myself. This ‘real me’ was buried deep inside and I simply couldn’t dig the it out, despite by best efforts. I was subjected to a bit of an improper conditioning as a child and as a teen and Greg’s intervention helped me find my feet in this world, to regain my self-confidence and self-esteem. He helped me find ‘you’. The reason I was able to push Phil back and not make a fool of myself today is largely because of…. Greg.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock blinked, “Of all things, this is the most unbelievable. And Greg, you knew all along? Did Mycroft know as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft shook his head, “No, I had no idea Lockie. But what exactly happened today, at the hotel? Greg was so anxious. In fact I have never seen him so worried about anything or anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll explain that part,” John took over, “It’s important that we know how slippery and deceitful Phil is and also your secretary Greg, Pierre.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s fired,” Greg said, “I wish you had called me after he yapped nonsense to you. That book was an example for me to show my students and mentees, ‘this is what you should not do when you’re in love’. Anyways, tell me what happened after that.”</p><p> </p><p>In twenty minutes the two older men were convinced that whatever had happened between John and Sherlock had only brought them closer. Mycroft took an instant liking towards John and even accepted his invite to have dinner with them that evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s give them some privacy,” Greg said, “C’mon we’ll wait in the hallway outside.”</p><p> </p><p>“You guys get suit up if you want to visit any of the restaurants downstairs,” Mycroft warned them, “Today the dress code is ‘formal’.”</p><p> </p><p>As the door closed behind them, Greg lowered his voice and asked, “I saw a ring on Sherlock’s finger or was that a mistake?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a mistake at all,” Mycroft said, looking a bit apologetic, “You know Greg, you have done the unthinkable. I never thought Sherlock would find someone so soon and that too someone like John. He seems like a genuine, honest guy. No pretenses and distractions. Very together person, if that’s even a word.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is a word alright,” Greg winked. “Perhaps it’s time for us to take the step as well?” Mycroft asked, fiddling with his collar and looking a bit sheepish. I mean, it’s been forever and we have not given the ‘next step’ a thought.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg smiled broadly and shook his head, “No, I don’t think anything needs to change for us. We haven’t taken the next step for a good reason.” When Mycroft gave him a slightly baffled look he added gently, “Look, things are all fine just the way they are between us right now. We have busy careers and we love our independence and lifestyle. My work takes me to a few other countries and I maintain residence at Paris as well while you love your London, your work and your social life here. Still, we are always there for each other, meet once a month and speak every day. Why does that have to change? Really, I am very happy the way we are Myc, I don’t expect anything more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we should maintain a common residence?”</p><p> </p><p>“That can be arranged. The Paris apartment will be put in your name too and the name plate shall be updated.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm and over here I can put the Mayfair Road and Hyde Park apartments in your name and update the name plates on the door. We already have keys to all these abodes…..”</p><p><br/>“Then we are all set?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yes absolutely!”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade didn’t change their relationship status but did do things that couples usually do, buy and own property together. They also celebrated at both London and Paris by throwing house parties for their friends, relatives and business associates, announcing their fifth anniversary.</p><p> </p><p>Soon after that Sherlock and John got engaged before a close-knit group of family and friends. John’s sister was a bit shocked that she had not been ‘consulted’ for this but soon she accepted Sherlock in the family and even agreed that her brother couldn’t have found a better match. Sherlock’s parents were quite thrilled with John, especially his dad Reginald Holmes.</p><p> </p><p>A wedding date was set three months later and during that period the two men purposefully stayed in their own flats, not wanting to move in before the D-Day. While they were old fashioned and traditionalist that way, they were less conservative when it came to intimacy and sex. Every weekend was spent in either one of their two houses, with John demonstrating his prowess to Sherlock who responded with equal vigor and stamina! Their compatibility was all-round, from shared interests, common hobbies to the things they liked in bed.</p><p> </p><p>Naturally, when the date of the wedding arrived, it felt like a very natural and easy transition into the status of ‘husband and husband’.</p><p> </p><p>The wedding happened in south London and the after-party was a delicious brunch organized at one of Mycroft’s clubs, on their sprawling lawns and banquet rooms. That night there was a bigger party organized by John at the same hotel where he and Sherlock had consummated their relationship almost eight or nine months ago. Complete with a live band, a dance floor, a bar that kept pumping out the spirits nonstop, it was a party as grand and eventful as it should be. The newlywed couple left around 4 am while the last of the guests left around 6-30 am after a light breakfast. The next day, John and Sherlock took an evening flight to Paris where both men had some connections. Paris reminded John of the life-changing training he had received from Greg while Sherlock’s maternal grandmother was from the south of France and they visited her picturesque town by the seaside after spending some time in Paris and St Tropez.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you happy?” John asked as they sat in the bathtub together one evening, staring through their glass floor-to-ceiling windows and looking at the Paris nightscape and the Illuminated Eiffel Tower in the distance.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock was lying between John’s open legs, his back plastered to John’s chest, a glass of wine in his right hand. He took a sip, gave John a sip and whispered, “Aside from a sore arse and a perpetual feeling of being ‘drained’, I think every bone in my body just screams ‘happy’.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does this mean the deep tissue massages need to stop?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no! I wasn’t complaining really. I was just commenting.”</p><p> </p><p>They kissed and Sherlock turned his head and looked into John’s face. “I never thought I would ever find romance or love in my life. It turned out that my first romance turned out to be the romance of a lifetime and the very first man I fancied turned out to be the love of my life.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I certainly hope I shall be your last,” John replied, kissing him passionately.</p><p> </p><p>When Sherlock came back to work after taking a month off for his wedding and honeymoon, Eva greeted him with a hug and said, “Phillip Andersen has taken six weeks off. Four weeks paid and two weeks unpaid. Probably couldn’t handle seeing a ring on your finger, eh?” Sherlock was taken aback. “Has he? Six weeks? But he’s seen a ring on my finger, my engagement ring, for so many months. Now I have a second one, a wedding ring…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe he thought he still had a chance and in case John and you broke up he’d step in. Sometimes engagements don’t last or don’t get converted to a wedding. But John and you remained in love and took things to the altar, thereafter he realized he can never change this reality! This ring is a bit more permanent so he’s got whacked in the head and heart heh!!”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock nodded, “Hmmm, but I still think his disappearance might be related to something else.” Eva waggled her brows, “Oh possibly! Now, are you and your hubby free this Saturday noon. Vic and I wanted to take you out for lunch!”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It was a slightly cloudy morning in Paris, the beginnings of winter. A mist hung in the air, through which the sun’s first rays pierced a few holes. Gregory Lestrade had just finished his power yoga and walked from his terraced garden towards his formal reception room, clutching a mug of health drink. He had just come back from London the previous week, from Sherlock and John’s wedding celebrations and a short holiday to Scotland with Mycroft, especially because he had a string of commitments that month. </p><p> </p><p>His new secretary, Henri, showed him a portfolio. “New client sir, very insistent that he sees you. After initial refusals, we have done the background checks and his problem is…..” Before he could finish, “Wait, I think <em>I know what it is</em>,” Greg smiled.</p><p> </p><p>The two men entered the room and found a very tense, restless and nervous Phillip Jeffrey Andersen waiting there. He had been chasing Greg’s office for an appointment but under the man’s instructions that had been held off so far. But today he had decided to take a normal ‘meeting appointment’ and mentioned he was in Paris already and would drop by at the house at that hour. Greg’s brows rose; he had been expecting this man but he had kept him off for a few months because he wanted to see just how badly Phil wanted to change himself and his rather objectionable ways of courting people and bribing people.</p><p> </p><p>The moment Phil saw Greg Lestrade enter the room he rose to his feet abruptly and swallowed hard, his unshaved cheeks red, his expression nervy. He was clasping and unclasping his hands and hopping from foot to foot.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Will he take me on despite the history we share, in spite of all that transpired earlier? I bulldozed my way in despite him not responding whether or not he will take me on as a trainee, he could easily toss me out on my arse.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He gave the older man an anxious smile and was about to say something when Greg raised his hand and stopped him.</p><p> </p><p>“First lesson Phillip, stop fidgeting with your hands and hopping from foot to foot. It indicates edginess and indecisiveness.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, commenting and kudos</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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